


Close to You

by flowerfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Counseling, M/M, Memories, PTSD, Post-CACW, Therapy, Touch-Averse, focus is on Steve and Bucky, memory recovery, referenced past sexual assault (not explicit), reunions of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12268935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerfan/pseuds/flowerfan
Summary: "I'm certainly not the guy to make you talk if you don't want to,” Bruce says.  “But you stick out, how you stay away from Steve."Bucky follows Bruce’s eyes as he looks around the room.  He sees what Bruce sees – Steve sitting on the sofa, Natasha’s feet in his lap.  Sam patting Steve fondly on his shoulder as he comes around to sit in the reclining chair to his left.Bruce’s eyes come back to meet Bucky’s, and he waits.Bucky shrugs.  It’s not his story to tell.  “Sorry, man.  But it’s not what you think.”Steve and Bucky are finally in the same place, just not as close as they might like.  This is a story about how they help each other heal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my awesome beta, perry_avenue.

It’s a pretty normal evening at the new and improved Stark Tower. Bucky is spread out on the couch in their apartment, reading a Neil Gaiman book on the Kindle Steve got for him. Steve’s at the kitchen table, going over a mission report before sending it off to Coulson. There’s soft music playing from an ipod on the coffee table, a playlist of smoky jazz tunes that remind Bucky of things that made his mother smile.

Later Steve stands and stretches, and Bucky determinedly keeps his eyes fixed on his book. He knows how good the view is, but he’s not about to stare.

“Think I’m gonna turn in,” Steve says. "You coming?"

"In a minute." Bucky finishes the page he’s reading, then follows Steve into his bedroom. Steve is wrapped up in a heavy comforter, the light blanket Bucky uses untouched on the other side of the bed. Bucky curls into it, facing away from Steve, and counts patient, understanding sheep.

“’Night, Buck,” Steve says quietly, from miles away.

“’Night, Steve.”

*****

At first Bucky had thought Steve was kidding when he told him about weekly movie nights at the Tower, but Bucky has been through almost two months of them now, and he's surviving. Almost the whole group has gathered in the common room tonight. They’re only missing Thor, who is absent more often than not, tending to literally otherworldly concerns.

Bucky’s leaning against the bar, about to take a sip of beer, when Tony snatches it out of his fancy vibranium hand.

"Thanks, appreciate it," Tony says. "Why don't you grab two more from the fridge, and go get comfy with your long-lost sweetie? I hear you're both fully defrosted now, cleared for action. All fixed by your Wakandan sugar daddy. Time to act like it. Put Cap out of his misery."

Tony doesn't give Bucky a chance to respond, just smirks at him and waltzes over to join the argument about what movie to watch.

"Asshat," Bucky mutters, and jumps when he hears a laugh. He turns, shaking his head as he realizes Bruce is standing right behind him. "Sorry, didn't mean it."

Bruce chuckles again. "Yes, you did. It's okay." Bruce steps away, and nods at Bucky to follow him. He sits down at the far end of the bar and focuses on Bucky, a look of concern on his face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Bucky has talked to Bruce about many of his issues – Bruce is a generally calm guy out of necessity, and an excellent listener. But Bucky doesn’t think Tony's run of the mill obnoxiousness warrants an intervention in the middle of movie night. He’s really not sure what Bruce is getting at.

"Talk about what?" Bucky asks.

Bruce doesn’t squirm or bite his lip or use any of the tells most people would as they prepare to ask an awkward question, so Bucky is a little surprised at what comes out. "Your intimacy issues."

"My what?"

"It's okay, really. It's probably to be expected that you would have concerns about being touched, given what you've gone through. It was incredibly insensitive of Tony to bring it up like that, but he's just looking out for Steve. Hard to believe, I know, but he does care about him-"

"Wait, Bruce, what does this have to do with Steve?"

Bucky can tell Bruce is trying to keep the pity out of his voice, but he doesn't quite succeed. "Everyone can see how you keep away from Steve. And it looks like it's taking its toll on you both. I can try to help, if you want, or I can help you find someone else to talk to about it."

Bucky waves his hand at Bruce to stop. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I'm certainly not the guy to make you talk if you don't want to. But you stick out, how you stay away from Steve. We're kind of a touchy group."

Bucky follows Bruce’s eyes as he looks around the room. He sees what Bruce sees – Steve sitting on the sofa, Natasha’s feet in his lap. Sam patting Steve fondly on his shoulder as he comes around to sit in the reclining chair to his left.

Bruce’s eyes come back to meet Bucky’s, and he waits.

Bucky shrugs. It’s not his story to tell. “Sorry, man. But it’s not what you think.”

There’s a crash at the other end of the room, and Natasha jumps up from the sofa to help Clint with the stack of pizza boxes before there are any more casualties.

Bucky gives Bruce a nod and then joins the group in front of the television. Bucky sits next to Steve, close, but not touching; Natasha will have to find another place to rest her feet when she finishes tormenting Clint. Steve seems to understand exactly what he’s doing, and gives Bucky a grateful look from under his eyelashes.

*****

Bruce flags Bucky down as he’s coming out of the Tower gym the next day.

“I’m making curry tomorrow night. Wondered if you and Steve would like to come over?”

Bucky scans Bruce’s face, but like always, he’s hard to read, eyes steady behind his glasses. “Just us?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna make us talk about our feelings?”

Bruce smiles, almost apologetic. “I’m not going to _make_ you do anything.”

Bucky sighs. “I’ll check with Steve. No eggplant, though. He hates that.”

*****

Steve agrees readily. Apparently he had already asked Bruce if they could meet with him together. “Didn’t I mention it?”

No, Steve, you didn’t, Bucky thinks, but he doesn’t really care. He’s been poked and prodded by so many doctors and mental health professionals over the past few months, one more well-meaning conversation with Bruce hardly compares. Anyway, this isn’t about him.

Bruce isn’t a fancy cook, but the food is delicious, and both Steve and Bucky help themselves to seconds, and then thirds. Bruce is spooning some kind of dessert into bowls – orange slices that smell of rosewater – when Steve dives in without prompting.

“It wasn’t as bad, when I was a kid. I was fine with some people touching me – my ma, and Bucky’s folks. Bucky’s little sisters, most of the time.” 

“As long as they didn’t sneak up on you,” Bucky says.

“Yeah. And Bucky too, of course.”

“Of course,” Bruce says neutrally, sitting back down at the table with them and waiting for Steve to continue.

“I mean, you know I got into a lot of fights.”

“History books weren’t wrong about that.” Bucky tries to take a bite of his dessert, but his hand is shaking and so he puts the fork down. He doesn’t like thinking about all the times Steve came home bloodied and almost broken, shutting himself in their tiny bathroom and refusing to let Bucky in.

“Guess after all that, I just got wary of people getting too close.”

“That’s a natural reaction,” Bruce says. It’s silent, and Bucky sneaks a quick look at Steve, who appears to be about as comfortable with this conversation as Bucky is.

“You don’t have to-” Bucky starts, but Steve interrupts him.

“No, I… I might as well.” Steve looks up at Bruce. “When I came out of the ice, after being trapped all that time… it was a lot worse. It, um, it is a lot worse. When people get near me, touch me, even when I know they’re just being friendly, it makes my skin crawl. I feel… bad. Sick.”

“Scared?” Bruce asks gently, and Steve nods.

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

Bucky’s stomach hurts. He wants to grab Steve’s hand and hold it tight. Ironically, that’s exactly the opposite of what would help.

“It’s good that you were able to confide in Bucky about this.”

Steve almost laughs, glancing quickly at Bucky and then back at Bruce. “I didn’t have to tell him. He just knew.”

“You could tell your other friends, you know. I’m sure they would respect your boundaries.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m their leader. A certain kind of camaraderie is expected.”

“Not if it makes you sick,” Bucky mumbles, and Steve shoots him a sharp look.

“I can handle it. That, and press conferences, and shaking hands with diplomats, and anything else that’s expected of me. I’m fine.”

“Then why did you want to talk to me about it?”

Bruce’s question hangs in the air, and Bucky watches the put-on confidence drain from Steve’s face. A long moment goes by, and Bucky is just about to suggest that they call it a night, when Steve speaks.

“I don’t want to be this way. Not with-” Steve glances at Bucky, his eyes shining, and then stands, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Excuse me, please. I’ll, um, I’ll be right back.”

Bruce doesn’t try to make small talk with Bucky as they wait for Steve to return from the bathroom, just offers him a cup of mint tea and drinks from his own. Steve’s back within a few minutes, surprisingly fast, all things considered.

“So,” Steve says, in charge again, as if nothing has happened. “I know you said you were going to read up on this, Bruce. What did you find? Is there anything I can do?”

“You want to be more comfortable touching Bucky, specifically?”

Steve holds Bruce’s gaze. “Yes.”

“Do the two of you have any physical contact at all? Does Bucky touch you on the shoulder, or the arm?”

“I’d never touch him if he doesn’t want it,” Bucky says, the words rushing out of his mouth. “I’d never do that.” He realizes he’s spoken rather louder than the situation calls for, and takes in a long breath, trying to steady himself against the flare of adrenaline that suddenly runs through him.

“You’ve been subjected to unwanted physical contact, too,” Bruce says, his words striking something painful in Bucky’s chest. “It makes sense that you’d be particularly sensitive to Steve’s concerns. That’s another reason it’s good that you’re talking about this.”

“Doesn’t matter why. I’m not gonna touch him if he doesn’t want me to.”

“But I do, Buck, I…” Steve trails off, and Bucky crosses his arms around his body.

“So it sounds like Steve needs to be the one to initiate contact, at least at this stage. Which is what I’d recommend anyway. Is that okay with you, Bucky?”

Bucky shrugs. “Yes.”

“Steve, is there a particular time of day that you feel more comfortable giving this a try? When you most feel like you want the comfort of a touch?”

Steve bites his lip. “At night?”

“Okay, sure. Before going to sleep, maybe?”

Steve lets out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be good.”

“Give that a try, then, when you feel ready.” Bruce turns to Bucky. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Bucky wrinkles his nose at Bruce. He’s not the problem. “Knock yourself out.”

“Try this, Steve.” Bruce sets his hand gently on Bucky’s shoulder, then takes it away. “Just like that. It doesn’t have to be much, just a way to make contact on your own terms. Start reminding your body that these kinds of touches are positive, and safe.”

Steve watches Bruce demonstrate, his face a studied blank.

“That seem like a good way to start?” Bruce asks.

“Maybe. Yeah, sure.”

“Try to tonight, before you go to sleep. See how it feels. Don’t be upset if it doesn’t feel natural, just give it a try – or not, if it doesn’t feel like the right time. There’s no rush.”

Steve considers this, nodding. “I’ll probably do it when we’re in bed. When we say good night. If…” Steve turns to Bucky. “If that’s all right with you?”

Bucky’s heart is pounding hard in his chest. “’Course it’s all right.”

He turns to Bruce, who is blinking at them both. “You sleep in the same…?”

Steve looks at Bruce steadily and sits up a little straighter, almost daring Bruce to object. “Yes.”

They’ve been doing it ever since Bucky got back. From the very first night, when Bucky paused in the hallway, no longer sure of his welcome, and Steve gave him a shy smile and inclined his head towards his own bedroom. It hasn’t been discussed. 

*****

Steve gets called away on a mission just as they are leaving Bruce’s apartment, and it’s three days before they see each other again. Steve shows up in the conference room at the Tower just as a strategy meeting for their next operation is drawing to an end, and sidles up to Bucky when Coulson dismisses them.

“Hi,” Steve says, his hand reaching out towards Bucky and then quickly back, without touching him.

“Hi.” Bucky scans Steve’s face, looking for a hint as to whether something unusual is going on, but he can’t tell. “Everything okay?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. Just, um. Glad to be back.”

“I’m glad you’re back, too.”

Steve smiles, and it’s such a small thing, but Bucky wishes he could make Steve smile like that more often.

“Missed you,” Bucky adds. He doesn’t make it into a joke, or scoff at the way the Avengers never seem to know what to do with themselves when Steve is gone. He won’t dilute it, not right now, not when something seems to be in the balance.

Steve’s smile broadens, and he looks down, pleased. “Missed you too,” he says softly.

They opt out of the group pizza dinner Tony is hosting, instead ordering in Chinese dumpling soup and an inordinate amount of pork fried rice. Steve takes a call from Coulson after dinner, while Bucky throws Steve’s dirty clothes from his mission into the wash and generally tidies up the place.

He expects that they’ll wind up watching a movie or reading, like they usually do after dinner, but instead when Steve gets off the phone he makes a big show of stretching and yawning.

“I’m beat,” Steve announces. “Think I’ll go to bed early.”

“Okay,” Bucky says. He has a feeling he knows what’s going on, but he’s not sure. Might as well figure it out. “Guess I’ll come too.”

Steve gives him a cocky little grin, and Bucky cheers internally. Got it right.

Bucky dawdles in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and flossing, trying to give Steve time to get changed and get into bed. He even shaves – it’s been almost a week, and he’s never quite sure when the scruffy look gets to be too much. His hair is still long. He takes it out of the little ponytail he usually wears during the day and shakes it out. Finally he changes into sleep pants and a Stark Enterprises t-shirt of Steve’s and makes his way into the bedroom.

Steve is curled up under his heavy comforter, as per usual, but he’s facing Bucky’s side of the bed. Bucky climbs in and gets under his own blanket, then reaches around to turn off the light. He can still see Steve’s face clearly – neither of them like to sleep in full dark, so they keep the hall light on and the door propped open – and Steve looks a little less confident than he had a few minutes ago.

“Steve, you don’t have to-”

But Bucky doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Steve leans over and presses a soft, deliberate kiss to Bucky’s freshly shaven cheek. He’s still blinking in surprise as Steve pulls back, looking rather proud of himself.

“Oh,” Bucky says eloquently, and Steve’s face falls.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you, was that-”

“No, it was fine, I just – I wasn’t sure that we…” Bucky trails off, his mind whirling.

“Wasn’t sure that we – what?” Steve asks, then swallows hard. “Bucky, do you not remember?”

Bucky doesn’t need to ask Steve to elaborate, his meaning is clear in the tremor in his voice. “I thought I might have made it up.” He has held on so hard to the barely remembered feeling of love and safety, of Steve wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. Kissing his lips, and his neck, and so much more. “I hoped, but…”

“You didn’t make it up,” Steve says in that slightly sad but gentle tone he uses whenever they talk about all that Bucky has lost. “We were together since just after high school. When our hormones finally overcame our good sense.”

“Hard to believe it took that long,” Bucky says, struggling to lighten his tone. “Given the general lack of good sense on your part.”

“Might not have, if you hadn’t insisted on taking out every girl in the neighborhood.”

“Didn’t know you were willing.”

“You always have been oblivious.” Steve reaches out, touches a finger to Bucky’s arm. “I’m sorry I took so long this time.”

Bucky feels his eyes fill with tears, and he scrubs at his face. “It’s okay. I mean…”

“No, really. I wanted to say something, but I just couldn’t – I couldn’t do anything about it. I still can’t.” Steve’s voice gets tight. “I’m not sure there’s any point in saying anything now, honestly, I’m still useless when it comes to this.” He waves his hand vaguely at himself.

“There’s a point, Steve. Believe me.” Bucky draws in a deep breath, and finds Steve’s eyes. “That was the first kiss I’ve had in over seventy years. It was amazing.”

Steve smiles then, his hand coming up to cover his own face for a moment, until he peeks back over at Bucky. “Your skin is so smooth. I didn’t realize you were going to shave.”

Bucky grins at him. “’Didja like it?”

“Don’t know. Might have to give it another try.”

Bucky feels his heart leap, and holds as still as he can as Steve leans over and kisses his cheek again, lingering just for a moment before pulling back. “Yeah,” Steve says softly. “I liked it.”

They gaze dopily at each other for a few minutes, before Steve lets out an honest to goodness yawn and Bucky laughs. “Maybe we really should go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Steve agrees. “Good night, Buck.”

“Night, Steve.”

Steve curls up and closes his eyes, but stays facing Bucky. Bucky watches his face until his mouth drops open and his breathing steadies. When Bucky can’t keep his eyes open any more, he lets himself drift off, still treasuring the feeling of Steve’s lips on his cheek. It was just a small thing, but it’s more than Bucky has let himself hope for in a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the seemingly encouraging turn of events brought about by Steve’s decision to kiss Bucky good night, it’s two steps backwards the next day. Bucky can tell Steve is frustrated by his lack of progress. 

“Thought I had it licked,” Steve grumbles one night, after a long evening where too many Avengers drank too much whiskey and each felt the need to slap Steve on the back repeatedly in an effort to get him to join in the fun.

“I don’t think it works that way,” Bucky replies, pouring them each a glass of ice water. 

“Do you think I should tell them?” Steve is leaning against their kitchen counter, tension pulling his shoulders tight.

“Not my call.”

Steve scoffs. “Didn’t ask you to make the call. Asked if you thought I should tell them.”

Bucky weighs his options. Be truthful, and risk Steve taking his advice and then regretting it. Or refuse to give his opinion, and make Steve angry – and possibly give him a reason to keep sacrificing his own comfort for his misplaced view about the good of his team. Better go with truthful.

“Yeah, I think you should tell them.”

“They’re gonna be mad I didn’t say something sooner.”

Bucky shrugs. “Maybe. But it won’t get better by waiting.”

“What if…” Steve turns away, sighing and running his hand through his hair. “They all think I’m so perfect.”

Bucky laughs, and Steve glares at him. “What?” Bucky asks. “They aren’t going to think any less of you because you’ve got trauma. They’ve all got trauma – it’s practically a requirement for the gig.”

“But I’m their captain,” Steve says seriously.

It’s not a joking matter to Steve, and Bucky knows it. But hiding isn’t doing their team morale any good either. “You ever thought maybe it would be a good thing for the team? Bring you – us - closer together?”

Steve frowns at him. “How?”

“Maybe it’s time they understand that you’re only human, too. You’ve got flaws just like they do, even with the super serum.”

“Flaws, huh?” Steve says, looking hurt.

“That’s not what I meant,” Bucky breathes out, cursing himself. “Issues, or-”

“No, you’re right. ‘Cause if not being able to hold you in my arms isn’t a flaw, I don’t know what is.”

Bucky feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, and he gazes wordlessly at Steve. He’s about to make some comment about how the conversation had taken an unexpected turn when Steve launches himself at Bucky and wraps his arms tightly around Bucky’s shoulders.

Bucky’s frozen, barely registering Steve’s face pressed against the side of his own, and Steve breathes out a shaking laugh. “Christ, Buck, hug me back already.”

Bucky complies, and Steve sags into his arms. Bucky’s over the moon, and he can’t keep it inside any more. “God, I love you, Steve. I love the hell out of you.”

Steve shivers, and tightens his hold on Bucky. “Love you too, Buck. Always. Always.” Steve pulls back slowly, and runs his hand down Bucky’s metal arm, giving his hand a squeeze before he lets go. “That felt really good,” Steve says slowly, meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Thanks.”

Bucky nearly giggles. “Anytime. No thanks necessary.”

*****  
The next day, just as the Avengers are standing up to file out of the conference room after an entirely overlong discussion of training goals, Steve clears his throat. 

“Um,” he says, and freezes.

Clint grins and gives Steve a hard pat on the back. “Spit it out, man. Didn’t you hear? Tony’s bringing in burritos for dinner, from that place that makes the spicy pineapple salsa. We haven’t got all day.”

Steve cringes, and Bucky’s heart goes out to him as the silence continues. But he’s got the Avengers’ attention now, especially Bruce, who is sending Steve an encouraging look. Natasha seems to understand that there’s something wrong, and she shoves Clint out of the way, putting a hand on Steve’s arm. Of course, that doesn’t help.

“Steve, maybe you should…” Bucky trails off. He’s not sure what he was going to suggest – do it by text message? 

“I’m fine, Bucky,” Steve grumbles. “Look, it’s not a big deal,” he says to the group. “I just… I’d like it if you guys didn’t touch me so much.”

Natasha yanks her hand away from Steve’s arm as if she’d been burned, and everyone takes a step back.

“Are you contagious? Did the super serum stop working? That’s it, isn’t it? Do we need to quarantine you?” Tony asks. “‘Cause that’s no problem, I’ve got a whole spare apartment you could move into, was saving it for Thor but he always stays with Jane, just say the word and it’s yours.”

Steve sighs, as the need to deal with Tony snaps him back into captain mode. “I’m not sick. I’d just rather you not touch me. It makes me… anxious. But I’m working on it.”

There’s a long beat.

“All this time, you couldn’t have told us, Steve?” Natasha’s voice is soft, more hurt than accusing. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve opens his mouth as if to continue, then just shakes his head and walks out of the room. 

Everyone’s head swivels to Bucky, as if they expect him to explain. But there’s nothing he can say.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Tony finally asks. “It’s why you’re always so twitchy around Cap.”

“I’ve known Steve for a long time,” Bucky says. He thinks these people forget that, sometimes. For all their teasing about Steve being an old man, they forget that Bucky was there with him. That they’ve both been marched into the future unwillingly, if by different means.

“Tell us what to do,” Clint says. “We didn’t mean to upset him.”

Bucky looks at Bruce, who gives him a nod and speaks up. “You don’t need to do anything special. Just stop the casual touching. Give him a little space.”

“No more movie nights?” Tony asks. “We could Skype him in. We could all Skype in. I could come up with a better system, the audio never works the way it should.”

“He doesn’t want to be alone,” Bucky says. “He likes you guys. Just maybe cut out the back slapping and shoving.”

“I should have picked up on it,” Sam says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve known lots of guys that feel this way. Shit. I’m a shit friend.”

“Don’t feel bad about it,” Bucky says. “Just fix it.” He leaves the room and bounds up the stairs, looking for Steve. 

He’s not in their apartment, so Bucky sends him a quick text. _Where are you?_

There’s no answer, and Bucky paces the apartment for a few minutes, then sends another message. _You don’t have to come home now. I’m not bugging you to do anything. Just want to make sure you’re okay._

Steve responds quickly. _I’m fine. Taking a walk. See you later._

*****

It’s two weeks before Tony suggests another movie night. Steve accepts first, announcing on the group text that he expects everyone to be there. Bucky knows Steve’s trying to project confidence, but Bucky can tell he’s nervous; before they head over, Steve changes his shirt three times and fusses over his hair.

Bucky’s not sure why this night is stressing Steve out so much – they’ve seen the Avengers plenty over the past two weeks, for meetings and even a tedious mission that involved six hours on the plane for only one on the ground – but he realizes why as soon as they get in the room. Without a job to do, Steve is adrift, somehow even less comfortable with his team than he used to be.

He sees Sam approach Steve near the bar, keeping a healthy distance between them, and start speaking to Steve in a quiet enough voice that even with Bucky’s enhanced hearing he can’t hear the words. But it must work, because Steve’s shoulders relax just a little, and Sam gives him a wry smile. 

Finally the two of them come over to the couches, Steve sitting in the corner of one, Sam taking the opposite chair. Natasha is about to join Steve, but she pauses as she passes Bucky. “He feels more comfortable with you next to him, doesn’t he?” she asks under her breath. 

Bucky nods. “Yeah.” There’s no need to beat around the bush anymore. Bucky sits down in the space next to Steve, and Natasha curls up in the corner on his other side. 

As the evening progresses, everyone loosens up. By the time they’re watching the second movie, even Steve seems to be settling down. Bucky’s hand is resting on the couch between them, and when Steve slides his hand over and wraps a finger around Bucky’s pinky, he knows the night is a success. 

*****  
The next day Steve comes back to the apartment after a meeting with Coulson, and frowns as he opens up his laptop and pulls up a file.

“Take a look at this,” he says, showing Bucky a memo with “Avengers Eyes Only” stamped across the top. 

“This what Coulson wanted to talk to you about today?” Bucky asks, scanning the document.

“Yeah. He wanted Natasha to go with me, but I told him it should be you.”

The memo outlines the shady behavior of a very prestigious financial management firm, headed by two women with extremely well camouflaged ties to what may be a former HYDRA cell. 

“He really thinks these two are HYDRA?” Bucky asks. “They’re some of the most successful women in the U.S. Weren’t they in the news recently?”

“Yup, when their book became a best seller. Something about an update on ‘How To Win Friends and Influence People.’”

“With evil, apparently,” Bucky grumbles. “Beats out honestly every time.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

Bucky looks up at Steve, who is frowning even harder. “I didn’t mean it, pal. Just seems that these guys don’t ever learn.”

“So we’ll teach them.”

Bucky tries not to grin at Steve’s earnestness. It’s part of what Bucky loves about him, after all. “I’m in. So – why me?”

Twenty-four hours later, Bucky and Steve have both had a crash course on the latest accomplishments of the two titans of finance, and are on a quinjet heading for Washington, D.C. There’s a lavish party being thrown to celebrate the success of the women’s book, and Coulson thinks it will be the perfect opportunity to get close to them without arousing suspicion.

Steve will be playing himself, a national icon seeking advice on how to invest the buckets of money in back pay he accumulated while in the ice, as well as the hefty stipends he’s been receiving for his work in defending the free world since then. Coulson believes the women will jump at the chance to be able to say they have Captain America as a client, and had no trouble getting a ticket for Steve and a plus one.

The trick, however, will be setting up an opportunity to extract information from them about their possible HYDRA connections. Coulson’s informant has noted that one of the methods the two use in negotiations is to always stay together, one of them constantly monitoring the ways anything can go wrong. Coulson had wanted Natasha to go along as Steve’s date, and lure one of the women away from the other. But a better approach had seemed obvious to Steve.

“You sure this is going to work?” Bucky asks, smoothing his hands down his suit jacket. It’s without a doubt the most expensive piece of non-armored clothing to ever have touched his skin. Tony claims it’s a spare he just had sitting around in his closet, but Bucky doesn’t think even Tony has an extra Tom Ford suit tailored to Bucky’s measurements just gathering dust. 

“Are you kidding? You look like a million bucks.”

“But having me as your date…” Bucky’s run this over a dozen times since Steve told him the plan yesterday, and he still doesn’t know how to say it without putting his foot in his mouth. “You sure you want to…?”

Steve stills, glancing quickly up to the front of the plane where the pilot is starting to get ready for their descent. “Do you not want to be my date?”

Bucky’s heart pounds in his chest. “Don’t go turning my words around on me. That’s not what I said.”

“Say what you mean, Buck.”

“Okay, fine. This how you want to come out?” Bucky doesn’t really care about the world knowing about his own sexuality – no one seems to pay him much attention, anyway – but people have certain expectations of Steve.

Steve squares his shoulders and crosses his arms over his chest, defensive. “I already came out.”

It had been a brief mention in an interview months ago, and had quickly been overtaken in the news cycle when a B-list celebrity’s emails got hacked and it was revealed that he was spying for Russia. 

“Saying it and showing it are two different things.”

Steve turns away from Bucky, straightening his uniform. He’s in full stars and stripes, shield and all. It’s not the most elegant outfit for a black-tie event, but apparently their hosts had requested it. “Like I told Coulson, we don’t have to say anything about… us. Having someone as your plus one doesn’t necessarily mean you’re romantically involved. And if Nora and Catherine are curious about it, that can only help with the mission.” Steve sighs and turns back to Bucky. “If you were uncomfortable with this, I really wish you had said something earlier. But I can call Natasha, she can probably be in the air in less than an hour-”

“Steve, I’m not uncomfortable with the mission,” Bucky finally blurts out. “I’m fine. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He reaches for Steve without thinking, and the flinch he gets in return as his fingers brush Steve’s arm only make the whole thing more miserable. “Sorry, I’ll…” 

“No, it’s okay, I’ve got to get ready for it, anyway.”

“For it - for me to touch you,” Bucky says slowly, pained. “So you can be prepared. Act like it doesn’t matter, like it doesn’t make you sick.”

Steve meets his eyes, realizing what has Bucky so distressed. “No, no – crap.” Steve frowns, then reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand in his own. “It does _not_ make me sick to touch you. I swear it.”

Bucky searches Steve’s eyes, and sees only sincerity. But he can also tell how hard Steve is working at keeping his hand steady, so he gives him a squeeze and pulls away. 

Steve looks down, crestfallen. “Not sick. Nervous. Happy. A little shaky, depending on the situation.” He raises his head and holds Bucky’s gaze. “Not sick.”

“Okay.” But the lump in Bucky’s throat won’t go away.

“Hey,” Steve says, reaching up to adjust Bucky’s tie, his face achingly close to Bucky’s. “Let’s not touch at all at this shindig. That way I won’t be pretending with you. Not for a minute.”

It seems ridiculous, but the idea actually makes sense to Bucky, and he can feel some of his tension fade away. “But – then what about your plan? Won’t they wonder why we’re not more obviously together?”

Steve shrugs, a mischievous smile on his face. “Let ‘em wonder. Anyway…” he waggles his eyebrows and quite obviously looks Bucky up and down, “I think you’ll be distraction enough.”

Bucky laughs, a warmth spreading through his chest. “Don’t flirt too hard, you’ll break something.”

“Not a chance. Super soldier, remember?”

Bucky flutters his eyelashes and grins at Steve. “How could I ever forget?”

The mission goes well, better even than they had imagined. Nora has her eyes on Bucky from the moment they enter the room, and whisks him away to dance while her dark haired business partner works on convincing Steve to invest his money with their firm. Bucky catches Steve watching them so often he starts composing lectures to Steve with the part of his mind that isn’t occupied with keeping Nora entertained, mostly of the “I can take care of myself, stay in your own lane” variety.

But when he and Nora join Steve and Catherine at the bar after a slow dance, Bucky gets a closer look at Steve’s face as he turns to offer a stiff greeting to Nora. He recognizes Steve’s expression as one he hasn’t seen in a very long time. Steve Rogers – Captain America, every beautiful muscle of him – is jealous.

Back on the jet, once they’re in the air, Steve quickly runs down what he learned. Coulson wants the information as soon as possible, so they do a quick debrief over a secure line. As hoped, in the course of convincing Steve to give their firm his money, Catherine had spoken about the many people who she had advised over the years, including some names that were definitely HYDRA adjacent. It was exactly what Coulson needed to keep the investigation going.

That task done, Steve makes an offhand comment about how much Nora enjoyed Bucky’s company. There’s a bitterness there that bothers Bucky.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Steve looks surprised to be caught out, and then chagrined. “Sorry. Got no right to be.”

Bucky frowns. “What’s that even supposed to mean?” 

Steve just shrugs and goes up to the front of the jet, ostensibly to help the pilot with something. Bucky knows he’s just avoiding him, and he doesn’t like it. But he’s been up forever, and if Steve is going to be a pill, he might as well get some sleep.

Bucky takes off his suit jacket and sets it carefully on the seat next to him, loosens his tie, and stretches his feet out, ankles crossed in front of him. He knows he looks good… he’s tempted to watch to see if Steve checks him out, but Steve is decidedly paying attention only to their flight plans, so Bucky lets his eyes fall closed.

He’s almost dozed off two or three times when he opens his eyes to find Steve standing in front of him, an indecipherable expression on his face.

“Can you help me with this?” Steve asks, tugging on the straps of his shield harness. “I think one of the straps is twisted.”

Bucky nods and stands up, going behind Steve to check the buckles pressed firmly against the center of his back. One of the straps is indeed twisted, and just as Bucky starts to straighten it out, the plane bumps in a bit of turbulence and Bucky jostles up against Steve, both his hands going to his shoulders, his hip bouncing off Steve’s side.

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve replies quickly.

“Hard to do this without touching you, sorry.”

Steve lets out a shy laugh under his breath. “That was kind of the point.”

Bucky freezes, his fingers still wrapped around the harness straps. He wants to ask for clarification, wants to make sure, but it’s not as if he didn’t hear Steve loud and clear. Maybe Steve needs him to trust him on this.

“Okay,” he says calmly, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The harness is fairly simple – a loop around each arm, meeting in the back in a metal bracket that holds Steve’s shield. Bucky traces his hands around the leather around Steve’s right arm first, making sure it is lying flat, then rests his right hand lightly on Steve’s shoulder as he does the same with the strap around Steve’s left arm. 

He’s right up against Steve’s back, reaching around him carefully. Steve inclines his head to the side, eyes fluttering closed, as if he’s trying to soak in Bucky’s presence.

Bucky stays still for a moment, then runs his fingers over the twisted piece on Steve’s back, smoothing it out so that it passes easily through the metal buckle. 

“I think it’s fixed,” Bucky says quietly. “Want me to help you get it off?”

Steve nods, barely moving. Bucky gently tugs on the straps where they rest on Steve’s shoulders, and Steve arches his back to let him remove the harness.

There’s a long moment, then, when neither of them move, and then Steve turns to face Bucky, his blue eyes wide.

“Thanks.” It means more than Steve is saying, a combination of apology and promise, but Bucky knows better than to press him now.

“Anytime.”

Steve takes the harness from Bucky and stows it in his duffel, then retreats into the bathroom to change out of his uniform. When he comes back in his sweats and t-shirt he sits down next to Bucky and rests his head on Bucky’s shoulder, as if it’s a perfectly normal thing for Steve to do.

“You must be beat,” Bucky says, not wanting to break the spell.

“Been a long day.”

Bucky stretches a little bit, adjusts his position so that Steve can rest more comfortably against him. “We should get some sleep.”

Steve agrees and lets out a long breath. Bucky waits, as still as he can, hoping Steve will stay where he is.

He does.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next few weeks it often seems like Steve is doing better, especially with the team. Everyone gets past the awkwardness of Steve’s announcement. Sam no longer looks guilty, and Tony has stopped slapping his own hand every time he reaches for Steve by mistake. Most importantly, as far as Bucky is concerned, Steve has loosened up, even outside of missions. It’s good.

But between the two of them, there are definitely good days and bad days. One night they make themselves a festive dinner, fajitas and salsa and fresh guacamole, and sit on the couch watching some ridiculous rom-com that Clint recommended. Steve is flirting like crazy, leaning into Bucky’s space every time he reaches to grab a chip from the bowl on the table, and fluttering his eyelashes whenever Bucky looks his way.

When they get into bed, however, it’s a different story. Steve’s goodnight kiss to Bucky is swift and is followed by Steve quickly turning over and curling up facing away from Bucky. 

It stings, and Bucky spends a long few minutes fuming, planning what he’s going to say to make Steve hurt, too. But then he looks at Steve, his big shoulders hunched and his face pressed hard into his pillow, and all the anger flows out of him.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” Steve’s voice is tight. 

“I had a good time tonight.”

To his dismay, Bucky hears Steve sniffle. There’s a pause, and then Steve flops back over, his eyes wet.

“You did?”

“Yeah. It was fun.”

Steve takes this in. “I’m sorry I can’t…” He waves at himself, then squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m just sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky says, trying to pour the affection he can’t show with his body into his words. “I understand. But we had a good night. We don’t have to fool around to be happy together.”

Steve rubs his hand across his face, then opens his eyes and looks at Bucky, then away again. “I want more, though. Don’t you?”

It’s as direct as Steve has been since that first conversation with Bruce. But it’s reassuring to know Steve’s still thinking about him that way.

“’Course I do. But there’s no rush.”

They’re both quiet, and then Steve huffs out a laugh. “Kind of optimistic of you, considering.”

“I’m not planning on falling off any more trains,” Bucky says. “But you’re right, we never know what might happen. Whether we’re living on borrowed time or not, though, we’ve still got to go at your speed. And that’s okay with me.” Bucky touches Steve on the shoulder with one finger, just a quick poke to get him to meet his eyes. “You get that, right? It’s okay with me.”

Steve stares at him, and blinks hard. “Fine. But it’s not okay with me.”

Steve has always been his own harshest critic, so this is no surprise. But it doesn’t strike Bucky as particularly healthy. “Well, then, what are we going to do about it?”

Steve leans away, on his back, eyes staring up at the ceiling. “Will you come to therapy with me?”

“With Bruce?” They’ve both been talking with Bruce pretty regularly.

“No. Bruce found a few people that specialize in this kind of thing, and he wants me to meet them, see if any of them feel right. But you should meet them too. If you’re willing.”

Bucky smiles to himself. He’s got a much different view of doctors and therapists than Steve does, and Steve still hasn’t really accepted it. The way Bucky sees it, they’re just people with a very specific skill set, and if used properly, can be incredibly helpful. Of course, they can also be tools of evil, but really that’s a possibility with anyone.

Steve, on the other hand, still thinks he can solve everything on his own. Being a super soldier who is almost impossible to kill doesn’t do much to prove him wrong, at least most of the time.

“Has SHIELD vetted these guys?”

“Fury checked them out personally.”

Okay, so not likely to be tools of evil. “Let’s make some appointments, then.”

Steve turns back towards Bucky. “I don’t know if it will help.”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with saving the world, pal. We can carve out some time in between watching Netflix, don’t you think?”

Steve grins. “I don’t know, the next season of _Stranger Things_ is coming out soon.”

Bucky laughs, and shifts a little, his right hand sliding a bit closer to Steve. Steve reaches forward and takes it, gently.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it okay if I kiss you goodnight again? Since we, you know, didn’t really go to sleep after?”

Bucky smiles. “I’d like that.”

Steve leans in, squeezing Bucky’s hand, and kisses him softly, right on the lips. He holds the kiss for a moment, long enough for Bucky to realize what’s happening and kiss back, just the tiniest bit of pressure, and then it’s over.

When Steve pulls away, there’s a shy smile on his face, and a blush apparent even in the dim light.

“Good night, Buck,” he says, taking his hand away and tucking it up under his chin.

It really was, Bucky thinks. “Night, Steve.” 

******  
The therapist they select is a woman who has spent time living all over the world, working with military personnel and vets who suffer from various forms of PTSD and related traumatic conditions. During their first official meeting, she explains that she was lured to New York by Fury, who offered her partner a dream job in SHIELD’s research and development division.

“Made him an offer he couldn’t refuse, hm?” Bucky asks, and Prisha nods.

“Her. But yes – she’s always wanted to work with Tony Stark, so here we are.”

Prisha has been briefed on both Steve and Bucky’s histories, but she asks a lot of questions about their background, and how they met, and soon Steve is telling amusing stories about Bucky getting him out of scrapes and his ma being exasperated and it sounds an awful lot like the sanitized version of their childhood from the history books, not real life.

Bucky must be making a face, because Prisha turns to him when Steve pauses to take a breath. “Is that how you remember it, Bucky?”

“Not exactly.”

By the time they leave Prisha’s office (conveniently located in Stark Tower – not really a coincidence) Steve is scowling and barely talking to Bucky.

“She can’t help us if we aren’t honest about stuff,” Bucky says, earning himself a glare from Steve.

“Fine. But you make it sound terrible. Like we were…”

“Struggling? Hungry? Scared? Like I wasn’t worried that you were going to get yourself beat up every night, or worse? That you weren’t sick as a dog, and hurting all the time?”

Steve shrugs. “Wasn’t like that _all_ the time.”

“But it was like that plenty. And it’s got to be related to what’s going on with you now, Steve. It’s gotta be.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just opens up his laptop and busies himself with Avenger business, real or imagined, for the rest of the evening.

During the night Bucky wakes with a start, paralyzed with fear. He asked Bruce once if it was normal, to freeze up during a nightmare, and Bruce just took his glasses off and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt until Bucky sighed and answered his own question. “Doesn’t matter if it’s normal, it’s normal for me.”

On the up side, his quiet paralysis doesn’t wake up Steve, so at least he’s not bothering anyone else. But it sucks, lying there under sweaty sheets, practically frozen as he focuses on the shadows cast on the floor from the light in the hallway, begging his body to get with the program and relax already.

When his muscles finally come back on line, Bucky slides out of bed and walks into the living room on shaky legs. He stands at the window, looking out at the city, still lit up even though it’s three in the morning. Bucky doesn’t even remember tonight’s dream very well, just a feeling of being trapped, panicking and needing to get out. 

He doesn’t get nightmares as often as he used to, but today’s session with the new therapist probably has something to do with tonight’s excitement. At least he knows Steve isn’t having a bad dream – unlike Bucky, Steve tosses and turns and thrashes about when he’s having a nightmare – there’s no missing it.

As if summoned by the thought, Steve appears next to Bucky. He’s got a dark blue fleece blanket in his hands, the one they keep on the couch, and Steve shakes it out and wraps it around Bucky’s naked shoulders. Bucky turns towards Steve as he fusses with the blanket, tugging it until it covers Bucky completely. Steve’s got his hands bunched in the blanket where it meets in the middle of Bucky’s chest, and Bucky carefully takes hold of the blanket.

Steve lets it go slowly, and then smooths his hands over the blanket where it rests on Bucky’s shoulders.

“Chilly out here,” Steve says, in full explanation for his actions, and Bucky nods.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Steve doesn’t have to ask why Bucky is standing in the living room, still trembling, and for that Bucky is grateful. Steve knows him better than anyone ever has, and probably better than anyone ever will. 

“Want some tea?”

They go into the kitchen and Steve fills the teapot with water. He starts telling Bucky about a mission he went on with Thor in Vermont before Bucky came back. It’s not often that the two of them get paired up together, but the others were busy and Thor, apparently, wanted to bond with Steve. The mission was an easy one, and afterwards Thor suggested they see the sights before returning to the city.

Steve continues with his story as he pours the tea into their mugs and hands one to Bucky. He breathes in the steam, letting his eyes fall closed. It’s chamomile, or some kind of blend, and it’s very soothing.

“He wanted to go sailing, but we couldn’t find a place to rent a sailboat. So we found a canoe. Can you picture Thor in a canoe?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Not really.”

“It worked better than you might think. Thor has a real communing with nature streak, when the mood hits him. He got really calm and thoughtful. And the lake was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, surface as smooth as glass. The most peaceful place I’d been in a long time.”

Steve goes on, and Bucky smiles, picturing the two blond giants in a narrow canoe, paddling their way across a serene lake.

When they finish their tea, Steve gathers the mugs and puts them in the sink. “Want to watch tv?”

Bucky usually can’t go back to sleep after a nightmare. It’s not that big a deal, he doesn’t need that much sleep anyway. But right now, getting back into bed with Steve sounds perfect.

“Nah. Let’s go back to bed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I, um, I’m good.” Thanks to you, pal, Bucky thinks, although he can’t quite get the words out. 

But Steve seems to get it, and smiles. “Okay.”

They climb back into bed, Bucky shifting around to avoid the damp spots in his sheets. Steve leans over and kisses him – on the mouth, again – and Bucky hums in happy surprise, quickly pressing back.

He’s curled into his blanket, almost asleep, when Steve speaks up, his voice soft in the quiet of their room.

“You know, just because you have sneaky silent nightmares doesn’t mean I don’t notice them. I just wasn’t sure what I could do to help.”

Bucky takes this in. “What you did tonight – that helped. A lot.”

Steve nods, reaches out to touch Bucky’s arm and then pulls back. “Good.” There’s a pause, and then, “I love you, you know.”

Bucky smiles. “I know.”

“My body may be giving off mixed signals, but not my heart.” Steve’s so earnest, so worried that Bucky won’t believe him.

“I know, Steve. I do.”

“But I can’t show you, not the way I want to.”

Bucky thinks of Steve draping the blanket over his shoulders, making him tea, and telling him stories. “You do show me. All the time.”

Steve doesn’t look satisfied, and Bucky frowns, wondering what he can say to help. The words pop out before he’s really thought them through. “Although I wouldn’t mind another kiss.”

Steve’s face lights up, as if thrilled to be given a task he can complete. He leans in and presses his lips to Bucky’s, his hand coming up to cup his cheek. Bucky’s feeling daring, so when Steve holds the kiss for more than a few seconds Bucky lets his lips part. Gratifyingly he feels Steve’s tongue dart out, teasing into his mouth for just a moment before he pulls back, beaming.

“How was that?”

“Great,” Bucky says, breathlessly. “It was great.”

Bucky has a hard time falling asleep after that, but it doesn’t have anything to do with his nightmares.

*****

At their next session with Prisha, Steve expresses his frustration with how slowly he thinks he’s progressing. Prisha quizzes them on what types of touches they’ve tried, what seems to work ( _kissing,_ Bucky wants to shout, kissing works) and what doesn’t. She listens carefully, tilting her head the same way Bruce does, and Bucky wonders if that’s something they teach in medical school. Then he remembers all the asshole medical professionals he’s come across over the years and decides nope, just a coincidence.

He’s startled out of his musing at Prisha’s next words.

“What? No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not touching Steve unless he wants me to.”

“He does want you to. That’s the whole point of this, isn’t it?” Prisha asks calmly. “It’s a lot of pressure on Steve, to have to initiate everything.”

Bucky looks at Steve, who nods.

“And the times when you have reached out, Bucky, the two of you have had some nice moments.”

“I haven’t – I didn’t mean to.”

She smiles softly. “You asked Steve for a kiss. And I don’t hear him complaining.”

Bucky swivels again to look at Steve, who has a determined expression on his face.

“I can tell you if I don’t want it,” Steve says firmly. “I can say no, Bucky.”

“Start small,” Prisha suggests. “Just little touches, a hand on the shoulder, a finger, even. Just like Steve’s been doing with you. Don’t be frustrated if it doesn’t work every time. Try not to surprise him. Telegraph your moves, you know, let him see that you’re going to reach out-”

“I know what that means,” Bucky says, trying hard not to snap. He’s not sure why this is upsetting him so much, or why Prisha doesn’t see it. 

But Steve can tell Bucky’s nearing the edge, and he stands up, wiping his hands on his khakis.

“It’s a great idea, Prisha,” he says politely. “Let us think about it.”

In the elevator Steve declares that he’s in the mood for pizza. They wind up in a little dive bar blocks away from the Tower, one that Clint likes to drag them to after missions. Despite the sticky tables it has delicious food. They make their way through a pitcher of beer and two large pizzas before they circle back to their session with Prisha. 

“I’m sorry if you felt like we ganged up on you,” Steve says, refilling Bucky’s glass. They can’t get drunk, but they both still like the taste of beer. “I mentioned it to her when I saw her last week. I asked her to bring it up, though. I was too chicken.”

Bucky brushes it off. “You don’t need to apologize.” He sighs, and takes a long swig of the beer. For as much as he wants to pretend this is just about Steve, he is realizing slowly that it isn’t. “I guess… I’m willing to try anything, if it’ll help. But I, um.” He looks up at Steve, who is waiting patiently for Bucky to give voice to what they’re both thinking.

When the words don’t come, Steve fills them in. “I’m consenting, Bucky. I’m consenting to you touching me. Whether I know it’s coming or not. Even if I flinch, it just means my body wasn’t ready. I want you to try this. It’s not the same as touching me without consent.”

Intellectually, Bucky knows this, but it doesn’t solve the problem, and he tries to figure out why. “But – if consensual touching makes you feel sick, or anxious, maybe that’s not the right standard.”

Steve nods. “Maybe. But I don’t feel that way with you now. Hardly ever. Maybe a little nervous, sometimes. Or,” he huffs, “a lot nervous. And I think part of why I’m nervous is that I’m worried about whether I’ll feel more nervous, you know?”

“You promise you’ll tell me if you don’t like something, you won’t just sit there and let me hold your hand because you don’t want to rock the boat or some crap?”

Steve grins. “I promise, Buck. I promise.”

*****

Bucky goes to see Prisha by himself the next day, when Steve is out at the gym. Afterwards he finds himself on the floor in their apartment, head between his knees, struggling to breathe. He presses his back against the bed and does what he’s been taught, counting his breaths in and out. He’s trying to calm down, doesn’t want to have to ask for help, but when his vision starts to flicker he scrambles for his phone and sends a text with shaking fingers.

_I told Prisha everything. Can you come_

It seems like an eternity but then there’s a familiar footfall and strong arms are wrapped around him, holding him tight.

“Bucky, I’m here. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Bucky clings to Steve, presses his face into his neck and shudders as Steve rubs his back.

“It’s all right, Buck. Keep breathing. You’re doing great.”

He listens to Steve, tries to match his breaths to his, and slowly, slowly, the world slides back into focus.

“I told her everything, Steve. I thought she would have known, from my file, but… she didn’t. It wasn’t in there. So I had to tell her. She has to understand, so she can help...”

“Of course, Buck.” Steve keeps rubbing his back.

“It was just hard, you know? I thought I was over it, but talking about it…” Bucky shivers, and Steve tugs him closer. Words fall out of his mouth. “It was just the one handler, but I think he was with me for a long time. Five or ten years. Every time they woke me up from cryo, still not really able to move, he’d be there. He’d make everyone else leave the room, then take his time... I couldn’t do anything about it, I just had to wait for it to be over. When I’d come to some more, wake up enough to move, he’d move away and give me this crazy smile, like he was proud to have raped me, like it was this fantastic secret between us. Then he’d call the techs back in and go on as if it never happened.”

Bucky’s throat is aching, and he knows he’s crying, he can’t stop it. “The worst part is, even after he was gone, when they woke me up from cryo, sometimes I’d expect it again, no matter how often they wiped me. I was so afraid…”

Steve is crying too, now, tears dripping into Bucky’s hair, the two of them clutching each other in shared pain.

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” Steve says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know…”

Of course, Bucky realizes with a start. If it wasn’t in Bucky’s file, Steve wouldn’t have known either. God knows Bucky never told him, not before today. A wave of panic passes through him. He’s already asked Steve to accept so much about his miserable history, maybe this will just be too much for him to handle. 

“Christ, Steve, I shouldn’t have said anything. You didn’t need to know-” He pulls back, but Steve holds tight, shifting only enough to put a hand to Bucky’s cheek.

“Bucky. Hey, come on. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Bucky meets Steve’s eyes. 

“I’m glad you told me. I’m so sorry that happened, I can’t imagine… but thank you for telling me.” Steve exhales, his breath catching on a sob that he can’t quite control. “We’re in this together, all of it, right?”

Bucky nods, words stuck in his throat.

“Now - I get why you’re so careful with me,” Steve says haltingly. “I wish… with all my heart, I wish that wasn’t why. And I wish we weren’t both so screwed up-”

“You’re not screwed up, Steve,” Bucky insists immediately.

Steve gives him a “you’re full of shit,” look, and then huffs out a laugh. “Fine. Neither of us is screwed up. We’re both healthy as fuck.”

Bucky laughs too, almost hysterically, and then they’re both falling into each other, laughing and crying and generally being far more emotional than either of them can usually tolerate. When Bucky finally sits up, wiping his face on Steve’s t-shirt as he goes, he’s astonished at how light he feels. 

Steve blinks at him, a smile stretching his cheeks, and Bucky grins back. Steve stands up and reaches his hand down to help Bucky up as well. 

They stand there, staring at each other, for a long minute. Steve looks like he desperately wants to say the right thing, but has somehow convinced himself that he doesn’t know what it is.

“You stink, Rogers,” Bucky says finally. He steps back and reluctantly lets go of Steve’s hand. “Didn’t anyone teach you to shower after a workout?”

“You’re one to talk,” Steve replies, giving Bucky a smile as he nods and heads for the bathroom. “At least make yourself useful, order us some dinner?”

“Sure.”

They don’t discuss it, not while they eat their masaman curry and pad thai, not while they watch a show about sharks, not while they take turns brushing their teeth. But after Bucky climbs into bed, in that quiet moment when he’s waiting for Steve to kiss him good night, he has to say it.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Steve asks.

Bucky sighs to himself. Jerk. “You know. For today. It was a lot of touching.”

Steve pushes up on an elbow, moving closer to Bucky. “I didn’t even hesitate, Buck. Not for a moment.” 

Bucky could be wrong, but he thinks he hears a hint of surprise in Steve’s voice, and, maybe, relief.

“It didn’t make you feel sick?”

Steve’s face falls, and Bucky braces himself. 

“I felt sick as hell. But not from touching you, Bucky.” Steve reaches out and grasps Bucky’s arm, hard. “Holding you was the only thing kept me from losing it completely. Holding you was good.”

Bucky stills, staring into Steve’s eyes, so wide and trusting. He inches forward, slowly moving closer to Steve. He watches Steve’s eyes closely for any sign of hesitation, until Bucky can’t see his face anymore, due to the fact that he’s nestled up against Steve’s broad chest.

Steve’s arm comes around Bucky’s shoulders, and Bucky wraps his arm over Steve’s waist, and they both lie there, waiting to see what happens.

“This okay?” Bucky asks softly.

There’s a pause, and Steve exhales, his breath warm in Bucky’s hair. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. It’s very okay.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Come on, lazy bones. Rise and shine. We’re gonna be late.”

Bucky rolls over, pressing his cheek into the pillow, barely hearing Steve’s words. But then there’s a warm weight in the bed next to him, and Steve is pressing a toothpaste flavored kiss to his lips. This gets his attention.

“Meeting’s in 20 minutes. I let you sleep as long as I could…” Steve sits back on his knees, a shy smile on his face. “You looked really comfortable.”

Bucky blinks up at Steve as he remembers the events of the day before – including falling asleep in Steve’s arms. He smiles, crooked against the pillow. “I _was_ very comfortable.”

Steve’s smile grows, but he slides backwards off the bed, tugging at the sheet covering Bucky’s legs. “Come on, then. Pepper’s going to be there today. I want to be on time.”

Bucky reluctantly crawls out of bed. He shakes his head at Steve, who is already showered and dressed, looking like the leading man he is in a dark blue button up with the top button undone. Coulda been a movie star, Bucky thinks, as he shuffles into the bathroom. Would have been a good deal safer than his current gig.

Bucky’s ready quickly, but he spends a few extra minutes on his appearance, shaving away the last few days’ worth of scruff, and finding a slim fitting charcoal shirt to wear with his black jeans. He pulls his hair back into a neat little ponytail as he goes out to meet Steve, who gives him an appraising look and a low whistle.

“Dressing up for Ms. Potts?”

Bucky shrugs, hoping he isn’t blushing. “Not for her.”

Steve blushes right back, so either way, it’s a win.

They take the elevator down and wander through the halls to one of the larger conference rooms. Bucky makes a beeline to the coffee set up at the side, and hangs there for a moment to get his bearings. He’s only met Pepper Potts a few times, and he’s not sure what to expect.

Steve, on the other hand, saunters right over to her and starts chatting easily. She gives him a folder with the new Avengers logo on it, and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Don’t be jealous,” Tony says, startling Bucky as he appears beside him, taking a large bite of a muffin. “Pepper finds him charming. News flash – everyone finds Cap charming. But she’s not looking to hook up with anyone else whose idea of fun is to put himself in the line of fire, believe me.”

Bucky has heard about Tony’s rocky relationship with Pepper, and he nods to show he understands. He doesn’t have to worry about actually conversing with Tony, however, as Thor whumps him on the back to say hello, nearly knocking Tony into Bucky and his second cup of coffee.

By the time everyone has assembled, it’s clear that this is the largest gathering of Avengers and Avengers-related folks in some time. As they find their seats, Steve gives Bucky a look from across the room - Steve’s trapped in between Pepper and Coulson, and hasn’t managed to save a seat for Bucky. Bucky holds up a quick “okay” sign, and sits down next to Bruce, who smiles and refills Bucky’s coffee.

“Always wondered,” Bruce says quietly, passing the coffee pot down to Clint, “does caffeine work on you guys?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Bucky replies.

Coulson calls the meeting to order, and then Steve speaks for a few minutes. The purpose of the meeting is to coordinate the various branches of Avengers with SHIELD’s public relations functions. Pepper is there to speak on behalf of Stark Industries, and to go over some details for a charity ball that Stark has just stepped in to sponsor. 

“Their main sponsor dropped out at the last minute, and since it’s a cause Stark Industries has always supported, we’re taking over,” Pepper explains. “But I need your help, and your good faith commitment, so we can make this event a success.”

Bucky hasn’t been paying very close attention to the talk, instead watching Thor and Jane – they’re seated across the table from him, and seem to have some game going on which mostly involves poking each other with their pens. Pepper pauses long enough, however, that Bucky looks up. She’s got a powerpoint up on the wall, and she flicks through several slides filled with information about the newest Stark prosthetics for children, finally stopping on a list of names. 

“Everyone on this list is going to speak, for at least 5 minutes, and then have a photo session. People pay good money to stand next to you cretins and get their pictures taken, so dress appropriately.”

Bucky scans the names on the list and, as he expected, finds Steve’s name at the top. Steve sees it too, and Bucky thinks he can identify the precise moment when Steve’s show face slides into place over his previously casual expression. 

Pepper clicks over to another slide, this one a list of the tasks the other Avengers will be engaging in throughout the event. Jane and Darcy are selling raffle tickets, and Bucky’s listed as “bartender” along with Clint and Bruce.

“Guess we’re the ‘B’ team,” Bruce says under his breath.

“Two B’s and one C,” Clint grumbles. “I understand why they want to keep a nice solid bar in between you two and the swarming crowds of fans, but don’t people want pictures with Hawkeye?”

“No problem, I’ll switch with you, and you can have old rich guys grabbing your ass all night long,” Natasha hisses.

“There will be no ass grabbing,” Pepper says calmly. “We’ll have agents with you at all times, and no untoward behavior will be tolerated.” 

This news does little to change Steve’s expression, and Bucky wishes they had at least had some advance notice of this shindig. Then they could have had Bruce talk to Pepper, or find some way to keep Steve off the personal photo session list. It’s not necessarily too late, of course, but somehow Bucky imagines Steve isn’t going to want all these people finding out just how much he doesn’t want to have old rich guys – or gals – grabbing his ass all night long. Plus, as always, Steve is the star of the show.

*****

The meeting is just starting to break up when Bucky sees Coulson frown at his phone, then lean in to whisper urgently in Steve’s ear. Within minutes, the room is cleared and Steve, Bucky, Tony, Clint and Natasha are grabbing their gear and heading for the quinjet. A known HYDRA operative they’ve been fruitlessly searching for has been spotted in Vienna, and Coulson wants them there as soon as possible.

The operative has already left Vienna by the time they leave U.S. airspace, and the atmosphere in the quinjet is tense as Steve communicates with Coulson and his agents on the ground to decide whether to proceed and try to track him, or return home and wait until he’s located again. They proceed, finally landing in Slovakia, on the assurance of an agent in Bratislava that they have good intelligence that the operative will turn up in one of two meeting places in the city.

Bucky sits back and watches Steve work, as he puts together a plan flexible enough to accommodate the constant flow of information. Once they land, Steve and Natasha set off to coordinate with the agents on the ground, and Bucky and Clint are assigned to keep watch over each of the two safe houses. Tony will remain on the jet for the time being, working the intel, until they get a better fix on the operative’s location.

Steve is in full-on Captain mode, and everyone is legitimately busy, so Bucky doesn’t expect much of a good-bye. But just as Steve is about to step off the plane, he turns and winks at Bucky, then jogs back out to join Natasha. It’s just a little thing, but it makes Bucky’s heart pound with happiness. 

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to get set up in the small office building across the street from the first safe house. SHIELD’s section of the building consists of a few mostly empty rooms, with a tell-tale pile of fast food wrappers in the garbage can, and a local agent who stands awkwardly at attention until Bucky starts quizzing him (in Slovakian) about his assignment. 

From the window Bucky can clearly see the front door of the safe house, and down the road a few blocks in both directions. Tony informs him through his comm that there’s a back door, too, and soon there’s a drone in place and Bucky has a view of the back door on his laptop.

“Don’t think he’s anywhere near you, though,” Tony says. “Or the other safe house. Cap and Widow have a lead. I’ll keep you posted.”

Bucky checks his equipment again, then once more, and settles in. He tunes out the other noises in the room, the agent’s nervous puttering, the hum of the computer, the cycling of the heating system, and waits.

It’s almost midnight when Tony shows up. 

“Still no sign of the bad guy,” Tony says, pulling up a folding chair. “Figured you might want some company.” 

Bucky stifles a laugh at the offended look the local agent gives Tony.

“Thanks. Whatcha got?”

“Sausages.” Tony pulls a wrapped package out of a bag and hands it to Bucky. “On rolls. With some kind of…” he pulls off a corner of the paper and sniffs. “Slaw? Dressing? Don’t know, but it smells good.”

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and then Tony gives Bucky an update of what they know about the operative’s whereabouts, mostly things Bucky has heard already over the course of the day. But it’s nice to have something to do other than stare out the window at the safe house and obsessively check his laptop for new information.

“Oh, and Cap wanted me to give you this.”

Bucky takes the folded up paper from Tony, and unfolds it. It’s a sketch of the two of them, cartoon-y and exaggeratedly cute, standing by a window. The Steve-character is pursing his lips and pressing them to the Bucky-character’s cheek, and the Bucky-character is blushing prettily.

The caption below simply reads “good night, Buck.”

Bucky feels his face heat, and he knows he’s smiling like a loon, but he really can’t help it. He folds the paper back up and slides it into an inside pocket in his vest. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it.”

*****  
The mission finally starts to go somewhere early the next morning, when Bucky gets a signal that the operative is nearing the house across the street. When Bucky finally gets a look at him, however, he realizes it’s a double.

“You sure?” Tony asks over the comm.

“He’s sure.” Bucky hears Steve join in. “Besides, I think I see him coming over here.” Steve and Nat are at a coffee shop near the second safe house, biding their time over their third cup of café au something or other. 

The man walks right by the place, however, and as Steve and Nat set off to follow him, Clint speaks up.

“Guys, hate to make this more complicated, but there’s another one over here.”

“Three’s company,” Tony mumbles. “Clint, take him out.”

“Belay that, not unless you’re certain,” Steve says. “Nat thinks our guy’s the right one. We’re following him now.”

Bucky is starting to get a bad feeling about this. “It’s a trap,” he says. Steve’s going to walk right into it, too. Or run into it, more likely. 

Tony is babbling on about facial identification software and how SHIELD’s current version isn’t good enough given these conditions, and how he can make a modification that will almost definitely probably help if they give him a few more minutes, but Bucky tunes him out as yet another man meeting the operative’s general description approaches the front door of the safe house across the street. He’s dressed completely differently from the other three, apparently having traded his overcoat and hat for gym clothes and sneakers. Bucky thinks he’s also wearing a wig. It’s an admirable effort, but not good enough.

His attention is nearly drawn away as he hears Steve report on the increasingly problematic nature of the situation with the double (triple?) he and Nat are following, but he just whispers his status into the comms and steadies his gun. He waits until he has a clear view of the man’s face – he only sees him for a split second, the man has skills - but that’s all Bucky needs for confirmation, and he presses the trigger.

“He’s down,” Bucky announces as the man falls, clutching his knee. Bucky nods to the agent standing next to him, who dispatches the team to go pick him up. “The rest is a trap.”

There are sounds of a fight, muted grunts and swearing, but it doesn’t last long.

“Trap is confirmed,” Steve says, and Bucky hears Natasha curse. 

“Buck, you couldn’t have solved this mystery before I ruined these shoes?”

“If you can’t run in them,” Tony starts to lecture her, and Steve laughs into the comm.

“She can run fine, and you know it. She used her shoe to pick the lock.”

“The lock?” Clint asks. “But how? And what lock?”

“Where they trapped her.”

“Briefly,” Natasha clarifies. “Very, very briefly.”

“Would have gotten me, too,” Steve continues, “if Bucky hadn’t warned me in time.”

Not likely, Bucky thinks, but you never know. It wouldn’t be the first time Steve had done something stupid, and it wasn’t likely to be the last. 

Nonetheless, he’s feeling pretty good as they all board the quinjet. Not only did he not fuck up, but he seems to have impressed the group with his performance. Even Coulson gives him a smile and a quiet “good work.”

After the plane takes off most of them settle down, Natasha and Clint trying to wrangle Steve into playing cards with them, and Tony muttering about something while swiping at his computer pad, but Bucky is still buzzing with adrenaline and can’t seem to make himself sit still. He goes into the bathroom and washes his face, changes into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and pokes through the supplies in the cabinets for no reason at all. 

When he comes out, Steve catches his eye. He’s still on one of the long cushioned benches along the side of the plane, feet kicked out in front of him, a soft smile on his face. Bucky joins him, and then without thinking very hard about it, leans down to rest his head on Steve’s thigh.

Steve’s rock hard muscles aren’t the softest pillow, but Steve immediately starts to card his fingers through Bucky’s hair, and suddenly Bucky relaxes, the adrenaline draining out of him. It’s possible, he thinks to himself as he drifts off, that this is the most comfortable place he’s ever laid his head. 

*****  
If nothing else, the mission gave Steve less time to fret over the upcoming charity ball. Before they know it, they are dressed to the nines and ready to go mix and mingle. Apparently after the news got out that the Avengers would be present, ticket sales shot through the roof. Pepper informs the group when they arrive that the private photo sessions were so popular that extra slots were added, not only for their most well known members, but for Clint and Bucky as well.

“Still not Banner,” Clint whispers under his breath to Bucky as they head over to their assigned room. Bucky wonders if this is because someone thinks he is less likely to lose control than Bruce, or if Bruce somehow talked his way out of it. Probably the latter. 

When Bucky’s photo shoot shift is over, they send him to the bar, and he spends an hour or so pouring drinks for mostly very well behaved guests. No one says anything blatantly offensive to him, although one young guy keeps looking at his phone and repeating a phrase in terribly accented Russian over and over. Bucky thinks he’s trying to perfect some kind of pick-up line, and he’s wondering if the guy would understand him if he whispered something dirty in Russian back (if the kid ever gets on with it), when  
Tony hops the bar and sidles up next to him. 

“I’ll take over here,” Tony says, looking curiously at the kid with the phone, who has started to blush. “Think your man could use a friendly face.”

Bucky sucks in a breath and tries to catch Tony’s eye. “Is Steve okay?”

Tony deftly takes a forgotten wine bottle from Bucky’s hand. “Just go.”

Bucky doesn’t waste any time, moving quickly through the ballroom and down the hall to the rooms where the larger photo sessions are being held. He sees Steve standing in a small crowd of people, his back against the wall. Two of Coulson’s agents are right there, smiling and nodding along. To most people it would just look like Steve being amiable, allowing his fans to have a few extra minutes of time with their idol. But Bucky can see the fine sheen of sweat on Steve’s forehead, and the glint of approaching panic in his eyes.

“Excuse me,” Bucky says broadly, drawing the attention of the crowd. “I need to speak with the Captain privately.” He gives his most charming smile and tilts his head. “Important matters of national security, you know.”

There’s a twitter of amusement, and the crowd dissipates, people murmuring their thanks and hopes to see Steve again later in the evening. 

Steve’s frowning, though, and when they have the room to themselves, he glares at Bucky. “What’d you do that for?”

This isn’t actually the reception he expected. “Looked like you need a break.”

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Steve paces across the room. 

“Yeah, but Tony said you-”

Steve’s eyes flash with anger. “Oh, fine, Tony’s coming to my rescue, too.”

“Steve, you’ve been doing this for hours, but you’re done now-”

Steve huffs out a bitter laugh. “No, actually I’m not done. There’s one more guy, some big shot, he’s running late, I told his assistant I’d wait. And even after that I won’t be done, someone will want just one more, for their husband or daughter or cousin twice removed.” Steve’s voice is getting louder, and he runs his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m never fucking done.”

Steve looks so miserable, Bucky just wants to take him in his arms and give him a great big hug. “Steve, at least let’s go take a walk for a few minutes, get some air.” He reaches for Steve, but before he knows it he’s flying across the room.

“Don’t fucking touch me!”

Bucky lands with a thump against Coulson, of all people, who barely staggers as he catches Bucky under the arms and steadies him. Coulson’s a lot stronger than he appears, Bucky thinks with the part of his brain that isn’t desperately trying to figure out how to fix a situation that is rapidly going south.

“Gentlemen,” Coulson says calmly. “Is there a problem?”

Steve’s mouth is gaping open like a fish out of water, and he closes it with an almost audible snap. “No sir, Agent, we’re fine.”

Coulson looks him over, then at Bucky, who wishes he had some form of mental power that could transmit his thoughts to Coulson, something along the lines of nope, not fine, not remotely close. But Bucky doesn’t even dare to shake his head, not with Steve staring at him. “We’re good, sir,” he lies. “Just a small difference of opinion.”

Apparently Coulson can read minds anyway, despite Bucky’s lack of telepathic powers. He gives them a significant look and then speaks calmly but firmly. “You are both relieved of duty for tonight. Go home.”

“What? No, sir, I’m not done-” Steve immediately protests.

“You are. I want you both out of here immediately. I’ll tell Ms. Potts, don’t worry about making excuses.” Coulson looks Steve up and down again, his face softening. “And come see me tomorrow, ten a.m. Both of you. I want to know what’s going on. All of it. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Steve replies stiffly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little bit of a cliff-hanger - but not as much as if I had put in part of the next scene... More soon, I promise!


	5. Chapter 5

They don’t speak during the cab ride home, or in the elevator going up to their apartment, or before Steve locks himself in the bathroom. Bucky wonders if Stark Tower has an endless supply of hot water, because it seems like Steve has decided to stay in the shower indefinitely.

Bucky cleans up in the other bathroom, changes into sleep pants and a tank top, and paces around the living room for a little while. But it’s late, and he’s tired, and as much as he really wants to talk to Steve about what happened tonight, he’s starting to accept that Steve really doesn’t want to.

Bucky’s in bed, half-heartedly reading a sci fi novel on his tablet, when Steve finally gets out of the bathroom. Bucky sits still, not wanting to rock the boat, and waits for Steve to crawl under the covers like he always does. But when a few more minutes pass and Steve hasn’t joined him, he gets a sick feeling in his stomach. Trying not to be too obvious, he gets out of bed, stretches, and goes to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

As he passes through the living room he sees Steve curled up under a throw blanket on the couch, eyes pressed tightly closed. He’s not coming to bed tonight at all, Bucky realizes, and the sting of rejection shoots through him.

He’s back in the bedroom before he knows it, cowering in the closet, trying to get control over his brain which just keeps screaming something along the lines of “you incredible fuck up” at high volume. _Steve just needs space,_ he tells himself. _It’s ok, it’s not a big deal, relax._ After a few minutes of arguing with himself Bucky stumbles out of the closet and into bed, curls up in the heavy blanket Steve left behind, and tries to fall asleep.

An hour later, he’s moved past berating himself and instead is growing steadily angrier at Steve. _I was just trying to help him,_ he thinks. And even if Steve was upset at the time, sulking like a toddler is no way to solve problems. Steve’s mean streak doesn’t show itself very often, and it seems tremendously unfair for it to surface now, when Bucky had just been looking out for him.

Bucky gets out of bed, the speech he’s about to deliver to Steve well-rehearsed, and strides into the living room. But his plans fly right out the door when Steve looks up at him. There’s something in Steve’s eyes, a barely contained panic, that claws at Bucky’s chest.

Bucky sits down on the coffee table, knees not quite touching the side of the couch where Steve’s head is resting. “Hey, buddy,” he says softly.

Steve blinks up at him, and tears gather in his eyes. “Bucky… I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, no – it isn’t.” Steve struggles to sit up, tangled in the blankets, but finally rights himself and scrubs at his eyes. “It’s not anything like okay. What I did…”

Bucky is surprised at the fervor in Steve’s voice. He’s clearly been giving himself the same “I’m a fuck-up” lecture that Bucky’s brain delivered a little while ago.

“Really, Steve, I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the point,” Steve insists, his voice rising. “After everything you’ve been through, everything that’s happened, for me to raise a hand to you… it’s unforgiveable.”

Bucky almost laughs but coughs to cover it up, shaking his head insistently. “No, no, no, Steve. Come on, no. All you did was shove me. In what possible way is that unforgiveable?” Brainwashing and torture is unforgivable. Getting thrown across the room into his boss is just another day at the office.

But Steve has convinced himself that he has committed a grave crime, and buries his face in his hands, unable or unwilling to answer.

“Steve, hey,” Bucky speaks as gently as he can. “Look at me.”

Steve sniffles and rubs his face, but eventually looks up. “What?”

“Do you ever think about how unlikely it is that we are here together? In this time, this place?” Bucky glances around the apartment. “We’ve got everything we need and so much more – we never even dreamed we could have a life like this. Right?”

Steve looks a little confused, but he nods. “Yeah.”

“This never should have happened. So, given how unlikely this scenario is, the fact that you and me are here, with each other, every day… working together, going to stupid charity balls together… we’re close enough to scuffle sometimes, Steve, and that’s okay.”

Steve is beginning to get the picture, but he’s still frowning. Stubborn.

“Steve, a shove from you isn’t a big deal, believe me. A shove from you is like Christmas morning compared to-”

“I still shouldn’t have done it.”

“Look,” Bucky says, moving in closer. “I’m good with you shoving me all you want. Shove me over so you can climb out of bed. Shove me in the kitchen so you can grab your favorite coffee mug. Shove me out of the way so you can spit out your toothpaste in the sink.”

Steve’s eyes lighten, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You do hog the sink.”

“Some people care about proper dental hygiene.”

“I’ve got the serum, Buck, I’m never getting gum disease.”

“You’re gonna look dumb with dentures, that’s all I’m saying.”

Steve’s shoulders have relaxed, and he looks less like a golden retriever about to be scolded, but his face falls a little as he reaches out to touch his fingers to Bucky’s chest. “Bucky. Did I hurt you?”

Bucky grabs the hem of his tank and pulls it up, showing Steve his unmarked chest. “Nope. Still as pretty as I was before.” Unless you count the scars and metal.

Steve doesn’t take the joke well, though, and presses the palm of his hand to Bucky’s skin, right where the bruise from their scuffle would have been, if it hadn’t healed so quickly. “You’re really not mad?”

Bucky starts to answer, to swear that he isn’t, and then stops and considers his words. “Truthfully? I was, before.”

Steve’s brow creases, and Bucky hurries to explain.

“I was worried about you, and you pushed me away.”

“Thought you said you didn’t mind a shove,” Steve says, getting defensive.

“I’m not talking about the physical part.”

There’s a weighted pause, and then Steve breathes out a long sigh. “Fuck. When was the last time I gave you the silent treatment?”

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t remember. Long time ago. But it still sucks.”

Steve looks pained. “I’m an ass.”

“Yeah, sometimes you are.” It comes out a little more bitter than Bucky meant it to, and he sighs. “But I love you anyway, Steve. Always will.”

Steve just stares at Bucky for a long moment, and Bucky wonders if he’s somehow said something wrong. But then Steve leans forward and wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him in close and tucking his head against his neck. “Love you too, Buck, love you too.”

*****  
The next morning Bucky wakes to the delicious smell of sizzling bacon. He shuffles out into the kitchen where Steve is cooking up a storm.

“Morning,” Bucky mumbles, and Steve turns to him, a shy smile spreading over his face.

“You’re gorgeous, you know.”

Bucky feels himself flush, and takes a quick look over himself. Wrinkled tank top that hasn’t been washed in a few days, sleep pants he stole from Steve that are a little too long on him. Not exactly high fashion.

“I mean it.” Steve steps closer and pushes a strand of Bucky’s hair back over his ear. “I don’t tell you often enough.”

Pretty sure he’s never said it ever, but Bucky isn’t about to argue right now.

“Thanks, pal. You’re not so bad yourself.”

Steve’s smile widens, and he turns back to the stove, ducking his head. “Eggs are almost ready. Want coffee?”

Bucky slides up next to Steve and crowds him a little as he reaches up into the cabinet, Steve intentionally not moving away. When Bucky gets his mug Steve gives him a gentle hip check, and they both grin at each other. Close enough to shove, indeed.

Soon they’re both seated at the table, plates piled high with eggs and bacon and toast. “What brought this on?” Bucky asks, not sure if he wants Steve to address his flirty demeanor or the fact that he made breakfast.

Steve takes another bite of bacon, and then pops the rest of his piece into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky does not choke in surprise, although it’s a near thing.

“Thought we might want a little sustenance before meeting with Coulson.”

Oh, right. “You’re… um.” Bucky halts, not wanting to screw up this extremely pleasant morning.

“I’m gonna tell him the truth, Buck. Don’t worry.” Steve spreads jam on another piece of toast and holds it out for Bucky to take a bite. “Try this – it’s that ginger apricot stuff Bruce gave us. It’s awesome.”

Bucky obediently takes a bite and smiles at Steve as he chews. “It is.”

Maybe Steve’s mood and their upcoming meeting with Coulson are related – maybe Steve is glad that he won’t need to hide anymore. Bucky just hopes Coulson goes easy on him. It’s not every day that your idol doesn’t live up to the image on your vintage baseball cards.

*****  
Bucky waits in a conference room while Steve talks to Coulson. The fact that Coulson wanted to talk to them separately could mean either that he’s being sensitive about what is obviously a difficult topic for Steve, or that he wants to interrogate them to see if they both say the same things. Of course, Bucky’s not really concerned that Coulson can get anything out of him that he doesn’t want to say. Still, it would be nice to know in which direction this is going.

Steve comes out to find him after only ten minutes or so.

“That was quick.”

Steve shrugs. “Just told him the truth.” He’s not as chipper as he was this morning, but he’s still fairly calm. “Your turn.”

Bucky sits calmly in Coulson’s office and waits for his boss to speak. Coulson, for his part, seems to be doing the same.

“Sorry we got into it at Stark’s charity thing,” Bucky finally says. Superiors like apologies, it can’t hurt to start there.

“I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this on your own,” Coulson replies. 

Bucky could not have been more surprised than if HYDRA sent him apology flowers. “Um, what?” he says eloquently, his mind racing to figure out if Coulson is being sincere.

Coulson gets up from his chair and walks around to the front of his desk, leaning back against it. “You’ve been trying to shoulder Captain Rogers’ burden. Take care of him. That’s not your job.”

“It kind of is,” Bucky says, before he can think twice about it, and Coulson cracks a wry smile.

“Be that as it may, I wish he had come clean earlier. I think we could have avoided some of the drama. And, you know, helped him.”

“There’s always going to be drama with Steve,” Bucky sighs, and then shakes his head. Who the hell is this man, that Bucky completely loses his filter? 

Coulson barks out a laugh. “You’d know, wouldn’t you? Well, that’s all I really wanted to say. I’m glad you’re both seeing Prisha – she’s one of the best, I couldn’t have suggested someone better. I’ll be talking more to Captain Rogers about this, but for now, I just wanted us to get on the same page. Let me know if there’s anything I can to do help.”

*****  
Later that afternoon, idly slapping around a punching bag in the gym, Bucky thinks about his meeting with Coulson. He had expected Coulson to press him for details, to try to get him to reveal Steve’s secrets. Does the fact that he didn’t interrogate Bucky mean Coulson’s trying to trick him, or is he legitimately letting Steve tell him at his own pace? Bucky sighs. Maybe he’s got other ways of knowing their secrets.

In any case, Coulson did seem sincere about wanting to help. Bucky just hopes Steve lets him.

By the time Steve gets to the gym Bucky has already showered and is heading upstairs. They pass each other in the doorway, Steve frowning in apology.

“Meant to get here sooner. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. See you upstairs?” 

Bucky pulls out some sandwich stuff for dinner, eating slices of swiss cheese as he puts together a pretty boring salad. Turns out even when you have enough money to buy any food you want, making dinner can still be a chore. 

It’s a few hours before Steve gets back, and he seems beat. They eat in silence in front of the television, watching some dumb cooking show that Bruce had recommended. 

Bucky’s aware his mood isn’t great, and he wishes he could pull himself out of it. But Steve isn’t helping much either. 

_Some days will be hard, no matter what you do,_ Prisha tells them. Guess she’s right.

It’s not late when Steve heads off to bed. Bucky follows him, just glad that they’re both going to be in the same place tonight.

Bucky takes his time brushing his teeth and getting into his sleep clothes, giving Steve the space to just fall asleep (or pretend to fall asleep) if he wants to. But when Bucky slides under the covers, Steve turns to face him.

“Night, Buck,” Steve says softly, and leans over to press a kiss to Bucky’s lips. Just as Steve starts to pull back, Bucky feels him hesitate, and almost reaches up to cup his neck and keep him there. But he’s too slow, and then Steve is gone, back on his side of the bed.

“Night, Steve.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, and then Steve speaks, barely above a whisper.

“This is the best part of my day.”

A warmth surges in Bucky’s chest, but he can’t miss the sad twinge in Steve’s voice.

“I like it too, pal,” Bucky says gently.

“Wish it didn’t go by so fast.” 

Bucky blinks in surprise, as his heart rate speeds up. “It doesn’t have to.” He slides closer to Steve, rests his fingertips lightly on his shoulder. “Can I give you a good night kiss, too?” he asks, his voice shaking.

Steve nods, and Bucky leans in. This time when their lips touch Steve lets out a sound low in his throat. Bucky thinks he can feel Steve’s kiss all the way down to his toes.

He lingers, letting his mouth slide open, and Steve does the same. Suddenly it’s not a single good night kiss anymore, but a series of soft, gentle touches, a little tongue. A careful tug on Bucky’s bottom lip. Bucky feels Steve’s hand come up to the back of his head, holding him firmly against Steve, and he melts.

Steve tugs at Bucky’s lip again, uses his teeth this time, and then shifts to press a kiss to Bucky’s neck, and up behind his ear. Bucky is breathing faster, struggling to remember to keep the rest of his body away from Steve. But Steve is making it difficult, teasing with his tongue as he returns to Bucky’s mouth, increasing the pressure and intensity of his kisses until Bucky is dizzy with it.

Bucky doesn’t know how long it goes on until Steve pulls back. There’s a dazed expression on Steve’s face and his lips are red and swollen, and he ducks his head for a moment. The hand that was tangled in Bucky’s hair drops down to his neck, then trails down his arm.

When Steve looks up, he’s got a proud smile on his face. “Was that okay?”

Bucky grins and laughs. “Yeah. Yeah, that was okay.” Steve’s still staring at him, so Bucky leans in and smacks a playful kiss against those gorgeous lips. “Steve, it was fucking amazing. You’re amazing.”

Steve blushes. “I don’t know if I can – if all the time I can…”

“Don’t worry about it. I know. It’s okay.” Bucky moves his hand to Steve’s face, traces a finger down his cheekbone. “I’m not gonna expect it.”

Steve tilts his head, presses his cheek into Bucky’s hand. “Feels so good to be close to you, Buck.”

He’s almost shaking under Bucky’s hand, trembling, and Bucky aches. “Come here,” he breathes out, and slides his shoulder under Steve’s head. Steve tenses, just for a moment, and then relaxes, head against Bucky’s soft t-shirt, not seeming to mind the metal underneath. 

“I’m not too heavy?” Steve asks, his breath puffing warm against Bucky.

“No, you’re not too heavy.” Bucky slowly touches his hand to Steve’s head and starts to card his fingers through his hair. Steve shudders, digging his face into Bucky’s chest. 

“Buck…” It’s an appeal, or an apology. Bucky’s not sure.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Rest. It’s okay.”

*****

The next day Steve has an early meeting to discuss some new intel that Coulson thinks relates to a mission from months ago. Bucky can’t fall back to sleep after Steve leaves, so he goes for a run, then putters around the apartment. He can’t stop thinking about last night, about the heat of their kisses, how Steve trailed his lips over the skin on his neck. Bucky knows just because Steve did it last night, they won’t do it all the time. He knows this. But he thinks it’s okay if he hopes.

Unfortunately Steve is in a grumpy mood when he finally gets back from his meeting. He rejects each of Bucky’s suggestions for the afternoon – he doesn’t want to go for a walk, or spar, or watch a movie. He’s not interested in getting together with Sam, who just texted to see if they wanted to go out for Thai tonight, or in checking out the used bookstore Bruce recommended.

Bucky finally gives up, throws on a long-sleeved hoodie over his t-shirt, and goes up to the common area. Natasha and Pepper are there, lounging on the couches. Bucky is in the process of sneaking back out - he’s fairly comfortable around the guys, Sam and Bruce especially, but he hardly knows Pepper - when Natasha sees him.

“Bucky? Come join us. Pepper made mai tais.”

He hesitates, but Natasha is looking at him so easily, like it’s perfectly normal to just hang out together, he can’t find it in himself to run away. At least they’re friendly. Not like super-grump downstairs.

“Don’t think I’ve ever had a mai tai.”

Natasha passes him her glass for a taste. “We hadn’t either. But Pepper ‘s going on a trip somewhere with fancy drinks, so I’m helping her prepare.”

The drink has a real flower floating in it, something purple and white and pretty, and a slice of pineapple stuck to the rim. It takes like rum and fruit juice.

“You like it? I can make you one of your own.” Pepper is already standing and going over to the bar.

“She ordered the flowers special,” Natasha says, taking her drink back from Bucky. “Let her play.”

“Sure.”

Pepper starts telling Bucky about her upcoming trip, a reunion of sorts with a group of college friends, one of whom decided that Hawaii was the right destination for this year’s get-together. She’s got on a blue silk top and linen pants, but her feet are bare, and she props them up on the coffee table when she returns with Bucky’s drink. 

Natasha’s role in the conversation seems to be to highlight all the ways this trip could possibly go wrong, and Pepper humors her, brushing off her concerns with a shrug. 

“If aliens attack, they probably won’t show up in Oahu first,” Pepper says. “And if they do, you guys can all join me for a mai tai when you’re done fending them off.”

Natasha lets it go, and they start to run through all the errands Pepper needs to do before she leaves. Bucky is zoning out, and he’s thinking about heading back to his own place when he realizes Pepper’s talking to him.

“Um, what? Sorry.”

“Don’t let us keep you up.” Natasha grins wryly. 

“I was just asking about Steve,” Pepper says. “He promised me a dance at the ball the other night, but I never even saw him leave. Everything okay?”

Bucky freezes for a moment, then flashes a wide smile. “He didn’t want to turn into a pumpkin.”

Natasha laughs. “Did you find his shoe, Pepper? I hear that’s the key to solving this type of mystery.”

Pepper frowns at them. “I can’t tell if you two are deflecting or just naturally obnoxious.”

Natasha stands up, taking her empty glass into the kitchen. “Then you clearly don’t know us well enough.”

Bucky’s able to say his goodbyes without Pepper pressing him more about Steve, although the look she gives him as he gets into the elevator carries a fairly clear message. Coulson may have made their excuses for them, but apparently whatever he said wasn’t very convincing. Bucky and Steve need to get their stories straight – not just about the charity ball, but about the whole damn situation.

Steve is at the stove when Bucky comes in, and the apartment smells fantastic.

“Whatcha’ making?” Bucky toes off his shoes and comes into the kitchen.

“Spaghetti and meatballs.”

There’s a wooden spoon in the pot of simmering tomato sauce, so Bucky gives it a careful taste. It’s delicious. “Nice.” It’s comfort food, one of their favorites. 

Steve turns to Bucky. “Sorry I was such a pill before.” 

Bucky shrugs it off. “It’s all right.”

“Where’d you go?” Steve has turned back to the stove, but Bucky can hear the nervous twinge in his voice.

“Common area. Pepper and Natasha made me mai tais.” Bucky proceeds to fill Steve in on Pepper’s trip, and Natasha’s teasing, and the mood stays light all the way through dinner.

It’s not until they’re seated at opposite ends of the couch, groaning from the ridiculous amount of pasta and meatballs they’ve just consumed, that the topic of conversation turns more serious.

“I don’t think I can do this – I don’t know how,” Steve says, in the middle of a debate over whether they should binge a new Netflix show.

Bucky stiffens, and Steve’s eyes widen. “No – not – not us, I mean, I don’t know how to do us, either, but that’s not what I meant.”

A wave of relief passes through Bucky, and he rushes to reassure Steve. “You’re doing fine – with us.” He stuck out his foot and poked Steve in the thigh. “Really.” Steve shrugs, not accepting it. “So, um, what did you mean?”

Steve sighs. “Coulson said I should tell him what I can and can’t handle. But it’s not that I can’t handle things, I can. I have been, and it’s been fine. How the hell am I supposed to back out of this just because it makes me uncomfortable? It’s my job.”

“It’s been fine? Really?”

“Mostly, yeah.” Steve’s not looking at Bucky, but even in profile the stubborn set of his jaw is clear. 

Bucky licks his lips and turns to face Steve. “Want to know what I think?”

There’s a beat, and Bucky steels himself, afraid that Steve might just stomp out of the room. But then Steve lets out a long breath and shifts to meet Bucky’s eyes. “Sure. Tell me.”

_Don’t screw it up,_ Bucky thinks to himself. “I think there are a lot of ways your job can be adjusted to make it not be so awful for you.”

Steve screws up his face, about to protest that it isn’t awful, but Bucky shakes his head and goes on.

“You can still have public appearances – give speeches, and so on. But eliminate the meet and greets for a while. Add in some television or, even better, radio stuff. Podcasts, people love podcasts. Events where you can still get the message out, without triggering your anxiety.”

“You sound like Prisha.”

“Is that a bad thing? I bet she’d have some advice, too.”

Steve rubs the back of his neck, considering. “Those are good ideas, Buck.”

“Well, it’s not rocket science.”

“You really think it’d be okay, if we made some changes? Wouldn’t Pepper be mad? She puts so much effort into these parties.”

Bucky tilts his head at Steve and pokes his thigh again with his toe. “Pepper cares about you. I think she’d be relieved to know what’s going on. And honored to help.”

Steve wraps a big hand around Bucky’s bare foot and gives it a squeeze. “All right. I’ll think about it.” 

They go back to watching television, some British murder mystery show that neither of them is really paying attention to. After a little while Steve’s eyes start drifting shut, and on a whim, Bucky looks over at him and then pats his own thigh. “Lie down?”

Steve blinks at him, and then complies, resting his head on Bucky’s leg and pulling his feet up on to the couch. Bucky touches him gently on the shoulder, and Steve hums softly. It’s good.

Later, when Bucky is convinced Steve has fallen asleep (he knows his leg has, but he’s not about to make Steve move), he hears Steve mutter to himself about radio shows. It sounds like he’s trying to psych himself up for a talk with Coulson. 

“Just wish I could tell him to shove the whole thing,” Bucky hears Steve say, and his heart clenches in his chest. It’s not fair, what has been asked of Steve. Bucky may have some decent ideas about how to make things a little better – really, Steve would have come up with them himself if he hadn’t been so stubborn about it – but it’s not enough. There has to be something more he can do.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, when Steve’s at a therapy session, Bucky calls Tony. It’s weird calling him when he’s probably in the building somewhere, but Bucky doesn’t want to get drawn into playing a video game or let Tony poke around in his arm. Before they can finish their conversation, however, Tony has to get off the phone, and Bucky can’t tell if there’s really an important meeting Tony is late for or if he’s just blowing him off.

He spends the afternoon shooting with Clint, each of them trading off different weapons and challenging each other to make ever increasingly ridiculous shots. Bucky’s favorite is when Clint hangs upside down from the climbing wall and shoots arrows in the eye of the lizard robot targets (which slink terrifyingly across the floor), and Bucky amuses himself by trying to knock Clint down before he can take out all the lizards.

When Bucky gets back to the apartment, Steve is in mission mode, throwing clothes into his duffel and giving Bucky a stern look.

“Where’ve you been? Didn’t you get Coulson’s message? Wheels up in less than an hour.”

Steve fills him in while Bucky packs, grabbing the bow and arrows Clint urged him to try. Steve just shakes his head and grabs his shield, and they make their way up to the roof.

Coulson’s flying the helicopter, and he gives Steve and Bucky a curt nod as they climb in. Bucky leans back against the seat, half hoping to get in a short nap before they land, but Steve is looking over Coulson’s shoulder out the front window, engaged and interested with the process for a while. After half an hour or so, Steve gets antsy, and slides himself up into the co-pilot seat.

“Um, sir? This heading… I thought we were going to Detroit?”

Coulson gives Steve a mild look. “Change in plans.”

Steve fidgets, obviously torn between wanting more information and not wanting to piss off Coulson. “Sir, if there’s anything we should know, to be prepared for the operation-”

“Relax, Captain. There’ll be time for a full briefing when we arrive.”

Bucky is fairly certain Coulson is up to something, but it only cements his desire to get some sleep now, while he can. If the op is too bizarre to tell Steve about before they get there, it’s likely to need his full attention once they’re on the ground.

*****  
Bucky jolts awake when the helicopter sets down. He climbs out behind Steve, still a little dazed from his nap, and blinks hard. They’re in a small clearing, pine trees all around, the scent of the forest deep and calming.

“Steve?” Bucky asks as they trail after Coulson. “Where the hell are we?”

Coulson turns and gives them his mildest smile. “Right where you wanted to be, Sergeant.”

They climb over a ridge and are met with a spectacular view - a rustic looking two story house with a porch running around three sides, on the edge of a lake that’s sparkling in the setting sun. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks. “What’s going on?”

_Tony, you amazing bastard,_ Bucky thinks.

“You look surprised, Sergeant,” Coulson says, the edge of his mouth quirking up. “Tony led me to believe this was your plan.”

“What – what was your plan?” Steve says, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“I may have asked Tony if he had somewhere we could go to take a break,” Bucky says, remembering the conversation with Tony that had been so abruptly cut off.

“A break?” Steve looks like he’s about to have a stroke.

“A vacation. You know, some time off.”

“I can’t-”

“It’s already been approved,” Coulson says. “But it’s not a vacation.”

Bucky stiffens. “It’s not gonna work if you’re flying him back and forth all the time to run ops.”

Coulson gives Bucky a measured look that smacks of an eye roll. “It’s a leave of absence. I’m thinking two months, maybe three. Depending on how you feel, Steve.”

“Agent, sir, I can’t-” Steve breaks off, looks at Bucky plaintively. “Tell him, Buck, I can’t just quit. It’s not right. I would never-”

“Hey, hang on,” Bucky says. He steps closer to Steve but doesn’t touch him, he’s too close to the edge for that. “I didn’t mean to spring this on you, I swear I didn’t. But I think you should give it a try. Even just for a few weeks, then you can decide how long you want to stay.”

Steve’s hands are clenched into fists, and he is looking over Bucky’s shoulder, not meeting his eyes.

“Stevie?” Bucky speaks softly, waits for Steve to focus on him. “This could be a really good thing for you. For us.”

Steve looks around, taking it in, and draws in a deep breath. Bucky thinks he can see the fight drain out of him, a look something like hope crossing his face.

“It’s pretty quiet here, huh?”

Bucky nods. “Seems to be.”

“No one within thirty miles,” Coulson interjects. “Pretty big mountains to the west, at least for New England. Stark security systems, access by air only, or maybe motorcycle if you’re daring.” Coulson turns to them. “The specs are inside. The mosquitos aren’t. Could we maybe continue this conversation over a glass of iced tea?”

Coulson gives them a quick tour, mostly consisting of pointing out the controls to various security and home systems and assuring them that Jarvis functions here too. Bucky can see Coulson trying to figure out whether Steve is going to go for it when Steve answers the question for him.

“You’re welcome to spend the night, sir, if you don’t want to head back this late.”

“I take it that means you’re staying?” Coulson asks.

Steve startles, and glances at Bucky. “Wait – you’re staying too, right?”

Bucky shakes his head at him fondly. “Of course, you idiot. I’m not about to pass up a luxury lakeside vacation.”

Steve grins and turns back to Coulson. “Yeah. We’re staying.”

*****  
The house is beautifully appointed, if a little on the nose in its faux country decorating style. Bucky supposes they should be glad that the woodsy theme doesn’t extend to dead animal trophies on the walls.

He has no objection to the king sized bed in the master bedroom with the fluffiest duvet he’s ever had the pleasure to fall into, however, or the whirlpool tub and rainwater shower heads. The full gym in the basement is nothing to sneeze at, either.

Steve questions him for a few minutes after Coulson leaves, a little ticked off at the thought that Bucky had manipulated him, until Bucky explains that he hadn’t realized what was going on, either. “When I talked to Tony this morning, it was just an idea. I was going to talk to Coulson next, but I never got a chance.”

“So Tony convinced Coulson? And threw in use of his… what do we call this place, anyway? A hunting lodge? A chalet?”

Bucky laughs. “We’re in Vermont, not Switzerland. But it’s definitely fancier than a log cabin.”

Steve goes to sleep early, while Bucky familiarizes himself with the house and its surroundings. The security system is top-notch, as he would expect with any Stark property. It’s enough to calm Bucky’s paranoia and then some.

The kitchen is fully stocked, and Bucky sees that he has a text with instructions on how to order more food. They can also have more clothes and other personal items shipped up – although Coulson’s initial instructions to pack for a casual undercover mission that could last up to a week means that they aren’t completely unprepared.

Bucky walks down to the water’s edge, guided by tiny lights set into the path that can be controlled by an app he’s just installed on his phone. There are canoes stacked off to one side, and two boats with canvas covers on them on either side of the dock. The lake stretches out in front of him, glinting with moonlight. It’s quiet, except for the soft sounds of insects and a light breeze rustling in the trees. 

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and lets out a long breath. It’s as beautiful a place as Bucky has ever seen. He just hopes Steve likes it.

Later that night, Bucky wakes up to the sound of Steve whispering his name. He turns over in his fluffy cocoon and opens his eyes.

“Bucky?” He can make out Steve’s outline in the dim light, but not much else.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“I… I didn’t get to give you a good night kiss.” Steve’s voice is lightly teasing, and Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. This is a nice moment, not a panicked one.

“There’s still time,” Bucky replies, his voice rough with sleep.

Steve moves closer and rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. When his lips land on Bucky’s mouth, warm and sure, Bucky feels a shiver run through his body. They trade lazy kisses back and forth for a few minutes, and then Steve ducks his head, resting against Bucky’s chest. Bucky shuffles them until Steve is comfortably curled up against him, just like he did a few nights ago. Bucky doesn’t want to hope it will become a habit, but he can’t help it.

“Love you, Steve,” he says softly.

Steve presses into Bucky’s chest, tightens his arm around his waist. “Love you, too.”

*****  
Steve spends most of the next few days sleeping. It’s like someone unplugged him, Bucky thinks. They stopped prodding him with all the things he felt obligated to do, and Steve just collapsed.

Steve doesn’t seem unhappy about it, though. Quite the opposite – he seems delighted with the fact that he can sleep all day long, and so Bucky goes with it. They nap together in bed, or downstairs on the couches. The first floor has a kitchen that opens up into a large room with a generous seating area and shining wood dining table. The big glass windows that open up onto a view of the lake have several settings to give them privacy but still allow them to look out, and Steve insists that the light won’t keep him awake, so they have a stunning view all day long.

When Bucky gets bored of sleeping he works out in the gym, putters around in the kitchen, or reads out on the deck. There’s wifi, of course, with a secure connection, and Bucky chats back and forth with Bruce, and Prisha, and even Pepper. Steve has shown no sign of wanting to talk to anyone else, which is fine, and Prisha assures him the whole sleeping beauty routine is normal – good, even. “It means he’s feeling less pressured,” she tries to explain. “He’s been expending a lot of energy, playing his part. It’s understandable that he’s taking some time to recharge.”

It makes Bucky feel like he should have done more sooner, but he tells himself that’s water under the bridge. Now he just makes sure Steve eats whenever he emerges, and then tucks him back into bed when naptime rolls around again.

On the afternoon of the fifth day Bucky is watching television when Steve shuffles into the living room. His hair is pointing every which way, and he’s wearing the same t-shirt and striped sleep pants he’s had on for about seventy-two hours. Bucky wants to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him silly.

“Can I join you?” Steve asks, and Bucky gives him a look that hopefully says “duh” as clearly as possible. Steve sits down on the couch and then stretches out with his head on Bucky’s leg.

“This okay?”

“Course,” Bucky responds. “It’s nice.” He plays with Steve’s hair a little, and Steve squirms.

“I’m trying to watch the show.”

Bucky laughs. “You don’t even know what I’m watching.”

Steve rolls and looks at Bucky, appalled. “You think I don’t know about _Buffy_? This show is a classic. Josh Whedon’s best work.” He harrumphs and rolls back over so he can see the screen. “But the earlier seasons are better.”

They argue for a while about which episodes are best. Turns out Bucky hasn’t watched nearly as much of the show as Steve has, and Steve takes it upon himself to remedy the situation. But they can’t agree on where to start, and Steve is too impatient to just begin at the beginning (the internet tells them there are 144 episodes, and Bucky has to agree that’s a lot).

Luckily they find a few good articles claiming to have identified the top ten or so episodes, and soon Steve settles back down again, content to point out favorite moments from his comfortable spot, his head back on Bucky’s thigh, hand gently resting on Bucky’s knee.

After a particularly affectionate moment among the Buffy version of the Scooby gang, Bucky comments that they’re kind of like the Avengers on a good day, and then all bets are off.

“Clint is definitely Xander,” Steve begins. “If anyone was going to get the funny syphilis, it would be him.”

“It would suck to be the one without any superpowers,” Bucky agrees. The serum has been the cause of both good and bad in Bucky’s life, but it definitely gives him an advantage when it comes to fighting evil. And he’s never going to have to worry about syphilis, funny or otherwise. “Natasha is some kind of combination of Willow at her most bad-ass, and Faith,” Bucky continues.

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve says. “A little bad-Willow history, that’s definitely Nat.”

“You’re Buffy, and Coulson is Giles-”

“I am not Buffy,” Steve protests.

“Are you kidding? You save the world on a regular basis, you fight bullies, and you don’t take crap from anyone. You are absolutely Buffy.”

Steve sits up and moves away from Bucky, his face troubled. “No, I’m not. I’m Angel.”

Bucky’s not letting that lie for a moment. “Dark, broody and tragic? Pal, that’s me, not you.” Bucky keeps his tone light, but their conversation has touched something painful in Steve, and he’s not sure what’s going on. He’s also not really interested in delving into the many additional traits he shares with Angel, complete with the back and forth between evil and good, without a doubt a characteristic that does not apply to Steve.

Steve stands up and wraps his arms around himself, and Bucky mutes the television.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“I _am_ Angel. He couldn’t be with Buffy because he… he couldn’t be intimate with her.”

“You feel like Angel because you can’t be touched? Steve, Angel was cursed so that experiencing a moment of true happiness took away his soul. That is in no way the same thing as what’s going on with you.”

Steve purses his lips. “Might as well be. We’ve been here a week, and I still can’t let you… “ Steve paces in exasperation. “I thought this was supposed to fix me.”

“Steve, we’ve been here five days, and – and there’s no timeline for this.” Bucky stands and steps closer to Steve, trying to catch his eye. “Do you think that’s what I’m doing, trying to fix you?”

Steve just shrugs, but he doesn’t move away, flicking his eyes up to Bucky and back down at the floor again.

“You’re not broken, Steve, and you don’t need to be fixed. That’s not what’s going on here. You’re unhappy with this one aspect of our relationship, and so we’re working on that. And we can be together no matter what happens. Okay?” Bucky thinks Prisha would be proud of him for this – separating out the intimacy issue from the rest of their relationship. It’s not all about touching, she keeps reminding them. If only Steve would believe it.

Steve shrugs again. 

“Steve, if you had found me when you first started searching, back after the helicarrier mess. What do you think you would have found?” It’s pretty much a rhetorical question, so Bucky just goes on when Steve doesn’t answer. “I wasn’t in a good place. I wasn’t ready to just hang out and be pals, shoot the shit at movie night… I could barely think straight. I didn’t know my own name – like, literally. Would you have just ditched me, because I wasn’t fit for civilized company?”

Steve looks appalled. “Bucky – no, of course not!”

“So how can you think I’d be any less understanding with you?” 

Steve pouts and doesn’t answer for a long moment. “I dunno. It’s just… it’s hard.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “On the bright side, I’m pretty sure you were just snuggling on my lap like a sleepy kitten for the past three or four hours. Some pretty nice cuddling going on there. You haven’t forgotten that, right?”

Steve looks at him. “No. But…”

He’s nothing if not stubborn, but Bucky can see him relenting.

“You’re doing fine, Steve. We’re doing fine.”

“Yeah. Okay. Maybe. But… what if I am like Angel? What if we can never…?”

Bucky grins at him. “If orgasms send you off into hell? Then I’ll come find you and drag you out.”

“Just like Buffy,” Steve says, confident now. “You just proved my point. You’re Buffy, I’m Angel.”

Bucky laughs. “Pretty sure you pulled me out of hell the last time around. But please yourself.” He stretches and looks around as his stomach lets out a loud growl. “Want to take a break and have dinner, if you’re done beating yourself up for now?”

Steve shoves him in the shoulder as they go into the kitchen. “Jerk.”

“Punk.”


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning Bucky wakes up to a sloppy kiss on his cheek, accompanied by the unmistakable odor of sweaty Steve.

“Get up. It’s beautiful out. I want to go canoeing.”

Steve informs Bucky that he’s already been out for a run (fifteen miles back and forth along one side of the lake, he could have gone further, but didn’t want Bucky to worry) and Bucky had better be ready to go by the time he gets out of the shower, or he’s taking a boat out by himself.

An hour later (Bucky convinced Steve that having some coffee first was an acceptable delay) Steve picks up one of the canoes, flips it over, and deposits it easily into the lake, the stern resting on the sand. Bucky gets the paddles, and they slide it out into the water. There’s a tricky moment as Bucky steps in to the canoe and Steve almost overcompensates, but they keep their balance, and they’re soon paddling away from the shore.

It’s a nice view, Bucky thinks, watching Steve’s back as he paddles, muscles rippling under his clingy t-shirt with each stroke. It’s still early, and the lake is quiet, except for the swooshing sound of their paddles in and out of the water.

They fall into a comfortable rhythm, and after a while Steve turns to grin at Bucky.

“You’re good at this,” he says. “Didn’t know if you’d like it.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t you remember all those days at our beach house when we were kids?”

Steve looks concerned at the thought that Bucky’s memories might be even more screwed up than he had feared, but then chuckles. “Don’t tease me. My memories of our sainted childhood are precious, but they don’t involve any form of water sports.” Steve digs his paddle just a bit harder into the water, sending spray up towards Bucky.

“Oh, sorry. Guess I got us confused with Tony. Or maybe Thor – he was the one you had your romantic boating date with, wasn’t he?”

Steve turns and grins again. “Jealous, Buck? Hey, is that why you devised this whole plan?”

Bucky flushes a little – it wasn’t the reason, but he couldn’t swear Steve’s story about his day on the lake with Thor hadn’t made an impression on him.

Steve twists more, trying to get a good look at him, and the canoe rocks violently. Steve shifts quickly to try to stop it from tipping, but his center of gravity is too high and over they go.

It’s icy cold, despite the warm day, and the weight of Bucky’s arm drags him down under the surface for a long moment. Just as he starts to kick Steve grabs him around the waist and hauls him up.

“Buck? Shit, you okay?”

Bucky sputters and coughs. Steve’s holding him close against his body, a panicked look on his face.

“I’m fine-”

“You went under so fast – Buck…” Steve holds Bucky tighter, his other hand firmly gripping the edge of the canoe. His legs knock against Bucky’s as he treads water.

“Steve, I’m okay. I’m fine. I _can_ swim, you know.” 

Steve stares at him, perhaps remembering that the last time they were in the water, it was Bucky dragging Steve to safety.

“Oh. Right. Of course you can.” Now Steve looks embarrassed, in addition to bearing a striking resemblance to a wet dog. With really nice shoulders.

“But thanks for rescuing me.” Bucky smiles at Steve, and rubs his cold nose against Steve’s cheek. “It was very gallant of you.”

Steve ducks his head, a smile tugging at his mouth. “Fancy words, Bucky.” 

Bucky shrugs, and then presses a chilly kiss to Steve’s mouth. Steve stills, his legs drifting against Bucky’s, and then kisses back, his hot tongue darting out to lick Bucky’s lips.

Bucky wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, bringing them chest to chest, but then a shiver runs through Bucky’s body and Steve pulls back.

“You’re cold.”

“Well, yeah.”

Steve shakes his head. “Guess we better get out of the water.” 

“Guess so.”

They bicker for a while about the best way to get back into the canoe, Bucky pointing out that since Steve was the one that got them into this mess that he might not actually have the best advice on the subject, but they finally both drag themselves in without capsizing again. Luckily their paddles hadn’t drifted far, and after some further negotiation, they manage to hand paddle over to recover them and get themselves moving back towards shore.

“Bet you didn’t have this much fun when you went canoeing with Thor,” Bucky says.

Steve twists back towards him, grinning when the movement makes the canoe nearly tip over again. “No, you’re right. I certainly did not.”

They’re back on land and walking up towards the house, still dripping, when Bucky stops Steve with a hand to his arm.

“There’s a hot tub.”

Steve tilts his head at Bucky, considering. “I’ve never been in a hot tub.”

“Me neither.”

The hot tub is up on the deck, off to one side. It’s controlled by a complicated looking panel, but it turns out that lake house Jarvis heard their conversation as they neared the house and soon offers to walk them through getting it ready to use.

Bucky’s shivering pretty hard by the time the hot tub is uncovered and heated up. It’s a little odd actually – he can feel cold, but it doesn’t usually affect him so much. Steve helps Bucky tug off his wet sweatshirt and jeans and he slides in quickly as soon as Jarvis says he can. Steve strips down to his boxers as well and climbs in after him. Without hesitation, Steve seats himself next to Bucky, an arm around his shoulders.

“Guess early May in Vermont isn’t a great time to go canoeing,” Steve says by way of explanation. He’s rubbing his hand over Bucky’s flesh shoulder, apparently not minding the way Bucky’s cool metal arm is pressed against his chest.

“Nah, it was fun.”

“I’m surprised the serum doesn’t keep you warmer.”

Bucky shrugs. “All that cryo felt cold enough.” 

Steve’s movements stutter, but then he resumes his comforting strokes, pulling Bucky closer against him. “I’ll warm you up, okay?” he murmurs against Bucky’s hair.

Bucky feels like he’s melting against Steve, despite his shivering. “Okay. Thanks.” He closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy the feeling of Steve all around him, his back against Steve’s solid chest, Steve’s arms around his body.

He has completely lost track of time and everything, really, when the hot tub’s buzzer goes off.

“I think I fell asleep,” Steve says after a long moment, stretching his feet out under the water. “Still nice and warm in here, though.”

Bucky presses his face into Steve’s neck. “Too comfy. Don’t want to move.” 

“We’re not supposed to stay in for more than half an hour,” Steve says, gently pushing Bucky’s hair back over his forehead. “Time to get out.”

They drag themselves out of the hot tub and into the house. Bucky’s limbs feel loose and floaty. Even his metal arm doesn’t seem to drag at his shoulder as much as it usually does.

He throws himself down on the couch, ignoring Steve’s protests over getting the furniture wet. 

“Cretin,” Steve chides, tossing him a towel from the bathroom. When Bucky ignores it, Steve stomps over and whacks him with another towel. Bucky just hides his head under a pillow as Steve laughs at him. Finally Steve gives up and, after cursorily drying himself off, lies on the couch alongside Bucky.

“I’m gonna tell Tony this is your fault,” Bucky says, squirming to make space for Steve. He’s ridiculously big, but luckily the couches are oversized as well.

“He’ll never believe you,” Steve says. He’s lying mostly on his back, a hand propped behind his head. His pecs are round and firm and he tilts just enough to press his side right up against Bucky.

“You make things very difficult, you know,” Bucky says. He almost flinches when he hears what he said, but apparently Steve gets it, and takes his words in the manner in which they were intended.

“Oh? Why’s that?” Bucky could swear Steve flutters his eyelashes as he says this, and flexes his chest muscles just enough for Bucky to see.

It’s an invitation, Bucky knows it is, but he’s still hesitant when it comes to things they haven’t done before. Even things they _have_ done before don’t always go as intended. And making out mostly naked on the couch in broad daylight definitely feels different, especially with the way Steve is looking at him, heated and sure. It’s intense.

Bucky only needs to incline his head a little bit before his lips touch Steve’s, and then Steve is shifting, cupping the back of Bucky’s head and kissing him like there’s no tomorrow.

Bucky grabs Steve’s shoulder, runs his hand over his skin, down his arm and then to his waist. Steve is attacking his mouth, then kissing along his jaw and around to his neck, biting and teasing. Bucky presses his hand to the small of Steve’s back to pull them closer. He can feel Steve’s muscles moving under his hand, Steve’s chest against his own, his hands in Bucky’s hair.

They have somehow kept their hips apart, but then Steve rocks towards him, and Bucky freezes. He’s trapped between the back of the couch and Steve’s solid form, and it’s if the air has suddenly been sucked right out of the room. 

Steve can tell immediately that something’s wrong. “Buck?” Steve slides away, landing on his knees next to the couch. He takes Bucky’s hand in his, and squeezes it until Bucky focuses on him. “Buck? You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I…”

Steve’s smile is at odds with the worry in his eyes. “No, it’s all right. It’s all right. Don’t apologize.”

“I don’t know what happened… we can… we can keep going,” Bucky says, but he can hear how his voice wobbles.

“Nah, let’s take a break. It’s okay.” Steve pushes himself up and waves at the couch. “Okay if I sit with you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Bucky turns and pulls his knees up against his chest, and Steve sits next to him, moving slowly. _Telegraphing his moves,_ Bucky thinks. He feels like an idiot. He’s not supposed to be the one with the problem.

“Steve, I’m sorry,” he starts again, but Steve isn’t having any of it.

“Shush.” Steve pulls the throw blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over both of them. “Come a little closer?”

Bucky leans his shoulder against Steve, closes his eyes, and tries to calm his breathing. Steve tucks the blanket around him and pets him, fingers in his still wet hair, and Bucky sighs. What a fucking pair they make.

*****

They don’t talk about Bucky’s little freak out. Instead Steve lets them both pretend that Steve is still the only reason they aren’t having sex like bunnies. Their routine continues much as it has, Bucky looking after Steve, making sure he gets as much sleep as he wants and feeding him whenever he wakes up.

But Steve is sleeping less, now, and getting more interested in seeing what else they can do to entertain themselves. He goes for a run every morning, and starts dragging Bucky with him as well. They don’t venture back out on the lake for a few days, but they attempt a few long hikes, and discover a pretty little stream where Steve sits and draws for most of one sunny afternoon while Bucky messes around with the bow and arrow Clint gave him.

Cuddling in bed at night has, much to Bucky’s delight, become a regular event as well. Steve still gives Bucky his good night kiss, and then more often than not another one. Bucky takes a turn as well, which usually leads to a making out session that is more sweet than heated. Steve likes to fall asleep with his head on Bucky’s chest, tucked against his neck, his arm flung over Bucky’s waist. It’s good, and neither of them push it any further.

Bucky makes it through two biweekly Skype sessions with Prisha without mentioning the day in the canoe, but finally she asks a pointed enough question that he has to work to think of a truthful way to answer it without revealing too much. She can tell that he’s hiding something, and calls him on it. “Can we talk about it next time?” he asks.

“Of course,” she replies. “But you get that this doesn’t work unless you tell me what’s going on, right?”

Bucky sighs. “Are you sure?”

Prisha laughs, and Bucky can’t help but grin in response. “Pretty sure.” She pauses, tilting her head. “Have you talked to Steve about it?”

“He knows.”

“Become a mind reader, has he?”

Bucky looks over to the bedroom door, closed tight while he sits on the bed for his call with Prisha. “No, but he knows.”

“Do you think he’s worried about it?”

Bucky taps his metal fingers on the side of the screen. Apparently Prisha is a mind reader, never mind Steve. “’Course he’s worried. He worries about everything.”

“Now, don’t take this the wrong way, but wasn’t part of the reason for this trip supposed to be reducing his anxiety?”

Bucky winces. “So now it’s my fault?”

“I’m certain I didn’t say that. But if you know Steve’s worried about you, and there’s something you can do to ease his worry, you might want to do it.”

“What if talking about it only makes him more worried?”

Prisha gives him that ‘haven’t you learned anything yet look.’

“I know, he’s probably just as worried about the fact that we haven’t talked about it than about the issue itself, right, right.”

“Well, then, you know what your homework for next time is.”

Bucky never liked homework much.

*****  
They’re getting dinner ready that night, Bucky slicing a cucumber while Steve plays with the salad spinner (it really doesn’t need to be spun for quite so long, but Steve likes the sound it makes), when, to Bucky’s surprise, Steve raises the issue.

“I think maybe we should talk about the other day on the couch.”

Bucky doesn’t need to ask which day. “Prisha kind of yelled at me for not saying anything yet.”

Steve looks at him sharply. “She shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Relax, she didn’t actually yell. She never yells. She just told me to talk to you.”

“Oh.”

Bucky’s comment seems to have derailed Steve’s opening, and he’s half hoping they can just move on to whether they want to mix up some vinaigrette or use the bottle of blue cheese dressing from the fridge when Steve tries again.

“I don’t ever want to make you feel that way, Buck,” Steve says softly. His hands have stilled on the salad spinner, and he turns to look at Bucky, eyes wide and nervous. “You need to help me understand what I did, so I don’t do it again.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“But I must have, or-”

Bucky walks a few steps away from Steve, clenching his fists. He doesn’t want to argue. “It wasn’t you.” Never you. You’re the good thing, you dolt.

Steve follows him, an intent look on his face. “Fine. It wasn’t me.” He’s working to keep his voice calm, although he’s clearly upset, and it makes Bucky’s stomach hurt. “Come on, Buck, talk to me.”

Bucky walks out through the sliding glass door to the deck, looking back to make sure Steve is following him. He is. They wind up looking out over the lake, leaning on the railing. The sun is setting, and it’s beautiful, but Bucky can hardly see it. He takes several long, deep breaths, letting the fresh air and the scent of the pine trees soothe him.

Steve has relaxed a bit, too, and Bucky concentrates on how good it feels to be near him. He’s got on a plaid shirt over his t-shirt, unbuttoned, and Bucky aches to just curl up into him and hide from the world. But he knows he can’t.

“Buck?”

He looks at Steve, blue eyes so sincere, and nods. “Yeah?”

“Maybe it was the situation. Just – things that were happening that day, all of them together. Not just me, or you,” Steve says.

This sounds possible. “Maybe.”

“We could… try to identify what was going on, so I – so we – can avoid it next time, or, at least, you know, be better prepared.”

Bucky stares out at the lake, remembers going out in the canoe that morning, the sun shining in Steve’s hair. Steve twisting to look at him, making the boat rock.

“I was already feeling… off,” Bucky says.

“From falling into the lake.”

Bucky doesn’t want to admit it. He’s fallen into bodies of water before, and always lived to tell the tale. He _can_ swim. He jumped off the helicarrier and pulled Steve out of that river, goddamn it. But as soon as he thinks about it, lets the idea form in his head, he knows it’s true. 

“Yeah. Falling in… freaked me out.”

He can feel Steve practically twitch next to him. They’re going to have a field day with Prisha next time. Probably not so hard to predict that Bucky might have a tiny bit of PTSD related to falling.

But that wasn’t it, not all of it, and he forces himself to keep going. “And - being so cold. That hit me hard, too.”

Steve nods solemnly. “Like cryo.” It’s ridiculous that they can even say things like this, that being forced into cryo over and over is just something they can talk about. But, apparently, they can.

Bucky shrugs. “Doesn’t make sense. Winter doesn’t bother me, not like that.”

“Maybe the combination of wet and cold? And surprise?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Bucky sighs. “But the hot tub felt great.”

“You really were really relaxed.” Steve turns towards him. “Then we got carried away on the couch. You were already feeling vulnerable, and I kind of cornered you.”

Bucky’s throat is closing up. “You didn’t mean…”

“I know. But I’m a big guy, and there wasn’t a lot of space there.” 

Bucky sniffs hard, and presses his flesh hand to his eyes. 

“Is that what happened, Buck?” Steve asks. 

“I felt like I couldn’t move,” Bucky whispers. 

Steve inches closer and Bucky leans into him, hides his face against Steve’s flannel covered shoulder until he no longer feels like he’s about to burst into tears. 

“It’s all right. You’re all right.” Steve rubs his back and sighs against his head. “I hate that I made you feel that way. But it’s good we talked about it, right?”

“Yeah, okay.” Bucky nods into Steve’s shirt, and realizes this isn’t exactly an unusual position for them to be in these days, one of them curled up against the other. Touching almost everywhere, holding each other close. “You know, you’ve gotten pretty good at this.” He snuggles into Steve’s chest to make his point.

Steve’s hand slows on Bucky’s shoulder, traces the collar of his shirt. “Can I tell you something?”

Bucky pulls back and finds his eyes. “Of course.”

“For every time this works,” Steve rocks into Bucky with a sad smile, “there’s another time when it doesn’t. When I see you sitting at the table, laughing at something you’re reading, and I want so badly to touch you. But I can’t. Or when you’re on the couch watching television and I want you to tug me down next to you and wrap your arms around me,” Steve’s voice cracks, “but I sit down in the chair instead.”

“Hey,” Bucky says, “hey, it’s all right.” He pulls Steve into a hug, and they cling to each other wordlessly. After a few moments Steve sighs and extracts himself from Bucky’s arms, going back to leaning on the railing and staring out at the lake.

“It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” Bucky asks, and Steve looks at him curiously. “All this talking.”

“Yeah.” Steve cracks a smile. “Wanna go down in the basement and hit something?”

Bucky laughs, and pushes off the railing. “Sounds like a plan.”


	8. Chapter 8

Bucky watches Steve over the next few days. All right, he knows he watches Steve all the time, but now he’s watching for something different. And he starts to see it. A certain hesitation. A quickly hidden look of longing. A quick turn away, a flash of disappointment.

One evening after dinner Steve is at the sink, rinsing dishes and putting them into the dishwasher. They tend to trade off clean-up duties, neither one of them enjoying it very much, and both keeping careful track of whose turn it isn’t.

Bucky comes up next to Steve and puts his hand on the small of his back, leans his head on his shoulder just for a moment. “Want to watch a movie when you’re done?”

Steve turns to him, soapy hands still under the running water. Bucky leaves his hand where it is, and Steve smiles. “Sure.”

When they go to take their places on the couch, Bucky makes himself comfortable first, and then holds out a hand for Steve. Prisha told him, weeks ago, that always having to be the one to initiate things was a lot of pressure for Steve, and Steve practically shouted it at him when they talked out on the deck. If Steve is looking at Bucky, and longing, but can’t push himself to reach out – well, then, it’s Bucky’s turn to put himself on the line.

Steve takes Bucky’s hand and lets Bucky arrange them together, Steve lying down on his side with his head on Bucky’s chest, Bucky stretched out between Steve and the back of the couch.

“You sure this is okay?” Steve asks, and Bucky wraps his arm around Steve to hold him in place.

“It’s okay with me. Okay with you?”

Steve laughs a little, and presses a kiss to Bucky’s wrist. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay with me.”

Neither one of them pay much attention to the movie.

That night, in bed, Bucky thinks there’s something different in Steve’s good night kiss. When Steve pulls back, he keeps his hand on Bucky’s cheek, and rubs his thumb across his stubbly skin.

“How do you get me so well?” Steve asks, a note of awe in his voice. “You get me better than I do. It’s uncanny.”

“Would you kick me if I said it’s ‘cause you’re my mission?”

Steve freezes, and then laughs, a bold belly laugh that shakes the bed. “Holy shit, Buck, way to ruin a tender moment.”

“No, really.” Bucky pushes himself up on an elbow. “I didn’t mean to joke – okay, maybe I meant to joke. But…” He leans a hand on Steve’s chest, and drops a soft kiss to his lips. “You’re the most important thing in my life. I love you. Least I can do is pay attention when you tell me something.”

*****

Things are good between them, and getting better. Steve hardly ever flinches when Bucky brushes up against him, and Bucky feels less awkward about initiating touches. The fact that they haven’t progressed any further sexually since the day with the canoe is a niggling concern in the back of Bucky’s mind, but it stays there, not doing much to interfere with their day to day life.

It’s clear, however, that Steve is starting to get a bit of cabin fever. While it might seem ungracious to be tired of living in the lap of luxury in a lakeside paradise, and Steve hasn’t come out and said anything, he’s clearly grown bored with sleeping and reading and watching television all day long, even with workouts and hikes tossed in for variety. 

Bucky supposes he shouldn’t be surprised – Steve is used to a pretty high adrenaline lifestyle. But watching Steve pace around the house is starting to get on his nerves. 

Bucky suggests an outing, and they argue for a while over whether to take out the speedboat. Steve is convinced that it will trigger Bucky’s PTSD, which Bucky adamantly denies. When Steve finally relents, Bucky insists that they read through the instruction manual first. Steve thinks this is a waste of time.

“You’re not James Bond,” Bucky gripes. “You can’t just jump in and drive the thing. At least give me a few minutes to look this over.”

Steve stomps out to the boat and Bucky watches from the deck as he unsnaps the cover and climbs on board. He can practically see the steam coming out of Steve’s ears.

Ten minutes later, while Bucky is reading the section on right-of-way and how to understand channel markers, Steve climbs back up the stairs. The speedboat is still at the dock, covered back up.

Bucky looks up at him. “Problem?”

“No gas.” Steve goes inside the house. 

That afternoon they make a big pot of mac and cheese, and finish all the beer. Lakehouse Jarvis doesn’t comment when they place an order for six more gallons of ice cream. It wouldn’t do to run out next time there’s an emergency.

*****

When Clint suggests he and some of the others come visit, Steve jumps at the idea, and then shoots a guilty look at Bucky when he hangs up the phone. 

“It’s all right, Steve,” Bucky says, grinning. “I’m not afraid you’re gonna run off with Clint.”

Steve bites his lip. “You’re not mad?”

“’Course I’m not mad. They’re my friends too.”

This was apparently the right thing to say, as Steve beams at him and leaps over the back of the couch to smack a kiss on Bucky’s lips. 

The next morning two packages are delivered from Tony, one for Steve and one for Bucky. Bucky opens his to find a pair of black leather cowboy boots, a black Stetson, and a Western style shirt in – you guessed it – black.

Steve’s box contains the same items, but his boots and hat are tan, and his shirt is red with blue piping.

Bucky tries on the hat, and grins when he sees Steve doing the same. “Any idea what prompted this?”

Steve looks up to answer, then gets distracted when Bucky tilts the brim of his hat at him and flutters his eyelashes. “Um, for the visit.”

“Clint’s visit?”

“Yeah. We’re going horseback riding.”

Bucky frowns. “Do you know how to ride a horse?”

Steve picks up one of his boots, admiring the design. “Nah. Can’t be that hard, can it?”

“Are you serious?”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Bucky. “You chicken?”

“Didn’t say that. Just maybe would have liked a heads up.”

“Well, they’re not coming until tomorrow. So you have plenty of time to get used to the idea.”

Turns out twenty-four hours of anticipation does nothing except get Bucky more concerned about horseback riding, but his worries dissipate when Clint, Sam and Wanda arrive. Clint explains that he has “hand-selected” only the Avengers who know how to ride, so that they can personally supervise Steve and Bucky’s lesson.

“So why are there three of you, and only two of us?” Bucky asks Sam as they climb into the helicopter. Sam is wearing relatively normal looking clothes, with a well-worn pair of boots, and the same goes for Wanda, who’s got a plaid flannel shirt tied over a white t-shirt. Clint, however, seems to have received a goody bag from Tony as well – he’s got a purple shirt and a black hat, both with shiny gold trim.

Sam grins. “Me and Wanda to teach you guys, and Clint to do tricks.”

“Tricks?”

“Yup. He used to be in the circus, you know.”

Bucky looks around, sure Sam is pulling his chain. “Really?”

Sam shakes his head. “I kid you not, my friend. Just wait, you’ll see soon enough.”

They fly in the helicopter to a clearing near an old barn, where three rather large horses wait placidly in a fenced in area. Clint proceeds to tell them about how to put on the saddle and all the other stuff, but Bucky quickly stops paying attention to the lesson.

“Stop checking out Cap,” Sam hisses. “I know that’s a good look on him, but you’re missing the most important part.”

Bucky feels his face heat. It is a good look on Steve – the heels on the cowboy boots doing great things to his ass, the dark red shirt tucked neatly into his slim jeans, the Stetson cocked over his handsome face. “Sorry.” He swallows hard. “You were saying - the most important part is…?”

“How to stop the horse.”

Eventually Clint’s tedious lecture is over, and Steve and Bucky mount their horses, Sam coaching Bucky while Wanda works with Steve. Bucky’s horse is named Romeo, and he’s black with a white blaze on his forehead. He seems nice enough, standing quietly while Bucky mounts, blinking his large brown eyes.

Steve is riding a larger horse, a white giant who tosses his mane proudly. Steve looks triumphant when he gets the horse to walk, and then trot. “Snowball likes me,” Steve says, smiling over at Bucky.

“Of course he does,” Sam says. 

“Next thing you know he’ll be begging to join the Avengers,” Bucky jokes.

“He’d make a great Avenger,” Steve says defensively.

“Gotta change his name, though,” Bucky comments. “Call him Freedom, or Justice.” This gets a laugh from Wanda and Sam, who toss around other possibilities until Clint makes them settle down and pay attention again. 

Finally Clint is satisfied that Steve and Bucky have the basics down, and he opens the fence to let them out. He’s riding a horse that looks to Bucky like it is considerably more agile than the ones he and Steve are on, a dark brown horse with a black mane. Wanda’s horse is similar, although hers has a white star on its forehead. Sam’s is almost reddish brown, and seems kind of stubborn, although after Sam leans down and whispers something in its ear it gets with the program.

They take it easy at first, Clint in the lead, Wanda and Steve next, and then Sam and Bucky behind them. The path is beautiful, taking them through lightly wooded areas and then across an open space where Steve and Bucky are encouraged to let their horses move more quickly. When they stop to take a break, Clint does indeed show off some fancy riding, even taking out his bow and doing some target shooting from horseback.

Clint lets them go at their own speed on the way back to the barn, although Wanda and Sam each stick fairly close to Steve and Bucky. Bucky isn’t as interested in letting his horse gallop away as Steve seems to be, and after a little while of moving fast and getting repeatedly slapped by tree branches he slows down to a more reasonable speed. 

Sam circles back to join him. His attempt at small talk is kind of funny (“so, watch any good movies lately?”) but Bucky forgives him when he realizes Sam is much more fluent in Game of Thrones than Steve, and they spend a good half hour analyzing the fine points of Westeros politics.

When they get back to the paddock, Steve and Wanda have already tended to their horses, and are sitting side by side on the fence, deep in conversation. Bucky gets a flash of a memory, Steve talking with one of his sisters, and it brings a smile to his face.

Despite the excitement of the day, Bucky is glad to get back to their house. Sam insists on starting up the grill, and Clint breaks out some fancy beer he brought with him. Steve heads up the stairs, presumably to freshen up, although Bucky could swear Steve winks as he walks away.

Curious, Bucky follows him, shaking his head at the sight of Steve’s ass practically at eye level in front of him as they go up the stairs. When he gets to their room, Steve tosses his hat on the bed and unbuttons his shirt. He turns towards Bucky, casually shrugging off his shirt and rolling his shoulders, making all the muscles in his back ripple. Bucky feels a wave of lust run through him, and clenches his hands tightly. 

“Buck?” Steve smirks at him, tilting his head to one side. “You okay?”

Bucky nearly groans. He tries to avert his eyes, but he just winds up looking down Steve’s body, and if he’s not mistaken, Steve’s as aroused as he is. This does not help the situation.

Steve steps closer to him, and Bucky feels his breath speed up. “No, really. Tell me,” Steve says in a low voice. “Something wrong?”

Bucky takes a deep breath. He’s not sure why Steve is teasing him like this, but he’s powerless to lie. “Nothing’s wrong. Just want to rip your damn clothes off, that’s all.”

“Hm, that’s not so bad.” Steve leans in and drags his lips over Bucky’s stubble, finally brushing a soft, breathy kiss against his neck. He’s sweaty and warm and it’s fantastic.

Alll the blood in Bucky’s body is rushing south, and he feels like he might swoon. “Steve, come on,” he stutters out. 

“Okay,” Steve mumbles, and pulls Bucky flush against him, one hand on the small of his back, the other around his shoulders. Bucky freezes, although it takes every ounce of his willpower not to press into Steve, where Steve is so clearly hard and wanting. It’s thrilling to know how turned on Steve is, but it doesn’t solve their current problem – which is illustrated quite clearly when Steve shudders and steps back.

He’s still got his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, and he’s breathing heavily, eyes averted. Bucky twists to look at him, but Steve won’t meet his gaze.

“It’s okay, Steve. We don’t have to. It’s fine.”

Steve takes a few deep breaths, then raises his head to look Bucky in the eye. “What if we can?”

Bucky forces himself to speak gently, through the fog of desire that’s threatening his reason. “I’d like that. I really would. But there’s no rush.” He places his flesh hand on Steve’s shoulder in what is hopefully a comforting gesture.

“No, Bucky, that’s not what I mean.” Bucky feels Steve square his shoulders under his hands, and Bucky almost smiles at Steve’s tells. Steve’s about to say something important. A declaration of love, most likely. But what comes next is a total surprise.

“Wanda has an idea. She thinks she can help.”

“Wanda? How?” What does Steve’s little-sister stand in have to do with it?

“She can go into my mind, change the emotions there.”

“No.” Bucky’s answer is immediate, as he feels a cold rush shoot down his spine. He may never have lost an erection so quickly. “No, Steve, absolutely not-“

Steve steps back, dismayed. “No, I said it wrong, wait…” 

“You want to let her mess with your head? Are you actually serious?” Bucky feels his voice rising, and he thinks he might need to hit something. The posts on the ridiculously large bed look like easy targets.

Steve sits down on the bed and grabs Bucky’s hand, pulling him down with him. “Bucky. Calm down and listen to me, okay? Trust me here for a second.”

Bucky grits his teeth and tries to breathe, not saying anything. It’s probably safer that way. For the furniture, at least.

“Wanda asked me a lot about when we were together, before – before you fell.” Steve’s face is so open when he says this, so beautifully sad, Bucky can’t help but quiet down and listen. “And I told her, a little bit. How easy it was between us.” Steve’s voice breaks. “How right.” 

Bucky wishes he could remember more, at least, to share this with Steve. “We’re good now, Steve. It’s okay.”

Steve shakes his head. “No. It’s not okay. But…” he pauses, rubbing his free hand on his jeans. “Wanda said she thought that the hard times I’ve had since then – the ice and, you know, being frozen for seventy years – have messed up my ability to retrieve those memories in the same way. That the trauma has gotten mixed up in places it doesn’t belong. Kind of like what Prisha says, but… I guess Wanda is pretty familiar with memories.”

Bucky suddenly remembers something Clint told him, about Tony and one of his AI creations that led to disaster. “Wanda can show false memories, though, right? She’s even done it to you.”

Steve nods calmly. “She has. But that’s not what she’s going to do. She’s been learning from someone from Asgard that Thor introduced her to. She really thinks this will work.”

Bucky sighs. When Steve decides to trust someone, there’s no arguing with him. “I still don’t understand how she can help. How is messing with your memories going to change how you feel when you touch me?”

“When we’re intimate now, I can’t help but remember being together then, but it’s all been colored by all the bad shit in between.” Steve looks indescribably sad as he says this, but his face brightens as he continues. He clearly has bought into whatever Wanda is selling. “Wanda’s going to help me feel what I felt then. She’s not going to change my memories, just help me remember them the way they were originally.”

“How’s she going to do this, exactly?”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know the details. But she did say that if you were there too, it would probably help.”

Great. Peachy. Bucky focuses on his breathing, which has just sped back up again. “Am I being too obvious if I ask whether there’s a chair involved?”

Steve looks stricken. “Holy crap, Bucky, no. What kind of an asshole do you think I am?” He stands up and paces, arms swinging. “Wanda would never – it’s not like that. It’s not. It won’t hurt, she’s not evil, she’s not gonna erase anything-”

“That’s not what you said a minute ago.”

Steve starts to protest, and then stops, his mouth closing abruptly. Then he sinks to his knees on the floor in front of Bucky, and puts his hands on Bucky’s thighs. “I swear to you, this isn’t going to hurt either of us. I would never put you in danger, Buck. Never.” Steve almost looks scared as he goes on. “You believe me, right? You don’t think I’d ask you to – not for anything - I love you, Buck. I love you.”

Bucky slides down off the bed and pulls Steve to him. The whole situation seems crazy, literally not the product of a sound mind, but reason pales next to the well-being of the man in his arms. 

“I’m not thrilled about somebody going into your brain, Steve. I’m really, really not. But if you trust her, and you think it will help,” he shrugs, “you should do it.”

Steve looks at him. “You sure?” 

Not entirely, thinks Bucky. “I think so. Want to talk to her first, though.”

“That’s fine.” Steve huffs out a bashful laugh. “There is one more thing…”

“What?”

“The memories she’s going after… they kind of involve you naked. With me.”

Suddenly the humor in the situation nearly bowls Bucky over. “She’s going to see us fucking.” Bucky can feel his face warming, but it can’t possibly compare to how red Steve is. “That little girl is going to see us fucking.”

“I know.” Steve buries his head in Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ll never be able to look her in the face again.”

“At least it’s not Natasha. Or Tony. Wait, she’s not going to like, record it or anything, right? Make a sex tape of us for later study?”

Steve glares at him and then bursts out into laughter. “Oh my god no, no, she wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe you should ask first, double check. Hey Wanda, you aren’t going to sell our young love for extra cash, are you?”

Steve laughs harder, wiping his face against Bucky’s sleeve. Bucky puts his arm around Steve’s shoulder and holds him as they both giggle. When they’ve finally relaxed, Steve turns to Bucky with a serious look on his face. “I’m gonna do it. But only if you’re there to protect my dignity.”

Bucky laughs again, and Steve grins back, anticipating Bucky’s next line. “What dignity, pal?”

It’s undeniably awkward when they finally go back downstairs. Sam, Clint and Wanda have already eaten, but there are a pile of burgers on a plate in the kitchen for them. Clint is proposing various card games to play, but he insists that Wanda be on his team and this causes an all-out argument about how it isn’t fair since she can read minds.

Bucky watches her closely during the debate, sees how her face closes up as they all pretend to know what she can do. As they blithely assume she would cheat, because of the powers she has. 

He stands up to return his plate to the kitchen and grabs a bag of some cheese powder covered popcorn he usually avoids because of the way it sticks to his metal fingers. When he comes back to the living area, he plops himself down next to Wanda and holds out the open bag. “Want some?”

The debate about what game to play next continues to go on around them, as Wanda gives Bucky a grateful look.

“Thank you. These are my favorite.” Her accent is a little stronger than usual – she’s still upset by the card game conversation, though she hides it well.

“I know.”

Wanda wrinkles her forehead. “How?”

Bucky grins. “I saw the way you looked at them when Sam unpacked all that crap you guys brought.”

Doesn’t take a mind reader, he thinks to himself, and he can tell Wanda gets it. 

They eventually ditch the idea of a card game, and put on a movie instead. Sam makes hot chocolate, and Bucky stays where he is on the couch, next to Wanda. He knows he can’t actually judge her character by mere proximity, but it makes him feel a little better to spend a few hours in her presence.

When he and Steve finally go upstairs, after making sure their guests are comfortably arranged in the guest room and the pull-out sofa in the basement, Steve is quiet. There’s no quiet undercurrent of pleasant anticipation before their usual good-night kiss/slash/make-out session.

After a few minutes of silence, each of them wrapped up in the covers but not touching, Bucky reaches out to stroke his hand down Steve’s arm. “What’re you thinking about?”

Steve shrugs. “You know.”

“The thing with Wanda?”

“Yeah.” Steve shuffles closer to Bucky. “What if it’s a bad idea? What if you’re right?”

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “You don’t?”

“No.” Bucky lets out a long breath. “It’s scary as shit, but it’s not a bad idea. Let me talk to her tomorrow morning – maybe we can start small, just give it a try. See what it feels like.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Steve smiles, a small, shy thing Bucky can barely see in the dim light. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Buck laughs, and leans forward to take Steve in his arms. “Sure can, pal.”


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning Bucky gets up before Steve and goes downstairs. He can see Wanda outside on the deck, so he pulls on a hoodie Steve left lying in the kitchen and goes out to join her. 

The lake is beautiful in the morning. The light fog rising over its surface makes it look otherworldly.

Wanda turns to him. She looks nervous, as if Bucky is going to interrogate her. Maybe he is.

“You know why I’m a little wary of people messing with my head,” Bucky says. “Or Steve’s. ” There’s no point in beating around the bush.

Wanda nods. “You’re right to be.”

“Tell me what you’re gonna do.”

Wanda bites her lip. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

A few hours later, he, Steve and Wanda are all sitting cross-legged in a circle on the big bed in the master bedroom. Wanda had suggested finding a quiet place outdoors, but as peaceful as their surroundings are, Bucky needs the security of walls around him for this. Clint and Sam have been given a rough idea of what they are doing, and have promised to stay downstairs in hearing range in case they are needed.

Bucky doesn’t want to think too hard about what Clint and Sam might be needed for, but still, it’s good to know they’re there.

Wanda shuffles closer to them, holding her hands out towards Steve, and Steve flinches, which makes Wanda whip her hands back to her sides. 

“Sorry,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Sorry.”

Wanda nods and moves towards Steve again, more slowly this time. Bucky can see how hard Steve is trying to keep still.

She stops and puts her hands on her lap. “Steve?” she asks softly. “Is there anything that would make you more comfortable?”

Steve shrugs, and glances over at Bucky. “I don’t know.”

Bucky slides closer to Steve and behind him, leaning up against the headboard. “Come here?”

Steve quirks a smile and moves in between Bucky’s legs, Steve’s back up against Bucky’s chest. They’ve been sitting like this on the sofa sometimes, the last week or so. Bucky thinks Steve likes it because it’s unexpected, Steve being held by Bucky, despite Steve being so big. Bucky figures it’s only fair that Steve gets to be the little spoon sometimes. Plus Bucky likes it too.

“This good?” Bucky whispers in Steve’s ear, his hair tickling his nose.

“Yeah.” Bucky can feel Steve relax. “Yeah, this is good.”

Wanda smiles at them and then concentrates again, reaching towards Steve. Bucky gives Steve’s arm a reassuring squeeze as blue sparks fly out from Wanda’s fingers towards Steve’s head, and tries not to flinch himself.

Suddenly Bucky sees an image of the two of them, and he closes his eyes to focus on it. They’re in a tiny box of an apartment, music playing on the radio. 

_Heaven, I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak_  
And I seem to find the happiness I seek  
When we’re out together dancing cheek to cheek. 

_They’re dancing together in a narrow kitchen, Steve so slight and small that Bucky has to stoop to touch his cheek to Steve’s. Bucky’s efforts to lean down while still dancing are making Steve laugh with glee. It’s a lovely sound._

Then the image disappears, and he’s back in the master bedroom. He’s gripping Steve’s hand, and can hardly follow Wanda as she carefully questions Steve about how he feels.

“I – I saw it too,” Bucky breathes out, interrupting Steve. “Me and Steve – in our old apartment. The one with the crooked floor.”

Steve turns to him, eyes wide. “You saw?”

“Yeah – how –“

“Because of the connection between you,” Wanda says. “And the physical contact. You’re sharing Steve’s memories. Or just seeing your own, when I direct Steve to something you both experienced.” She looks uncertain, as if just now realizing that Bucky might have different feelings about his own mind being explored than if it were just Steve’s. “Is, um, is that okay?”

Steve is watching Bucky closely, an indecipherable look on his face.

Turns out Wanda needn’t have worried. “Yeah, it’s okay.” Bucky feels himself nodding like a fool. “It’s okay.” It’s the clearest memory he’s had of Steve before the serum – and now it’s his again. For real.

Wanda explains how she’s going to show them a more intimate scene now, and Bucky flushes as he realizes he’s going to get to see it, too. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the rush of feelings that come when the next memory appears. 

_They’re in that same small apartment, Steve curled up against Bucky. It’s apparently wintertime, as Bucky can practically see his breath, and the two of them are bundled in sweaters even under the blankets. Steve is wheezing with each pained inhalation, and Bucky can feel Steve’s chest struggling to rise and fall._

_In the memory, Bucky leans and presses a soft kiss to the side of Steve’s head, but Steve barely reacts, spending all his energy on getting air in and out of his lungs._

Wanda pulls them out of it and shakes her head. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant to show you.”

Steve shoots a strange look at Bucky, and Bucky has to stop himself from running his hands over super-soldier Steve’s broad chest, containing lungs that never falter. Steve’s never going to be sick like that again.

“It’s all right, Wanda,” Steve says. “Keep going.”

There’s a longer pause this time between when Bucky closes his eyes and when the image becomes clear. Maybe Wanda was searching for something in particular. 

She seems to find it, because what Bucky sees this time is definitely more not-safe-for-work than the previous two scenes.

_Bucky is stripping out of his clothes, short hair wet like he’s just come from a shower, and Steve is sitting on the edge of the bed, a smirk on his face that is as recognizable as ever. Bucky pulls off Steve’s white tank top and runs his fingers (whole, no metal in sight) down Steve’s narrow chest, making Steve shiver despite the heat._

_Steve stands, rising on his toes, and kisses Bucky, deep and dirty. Bucky grabs him under the ass and lifts him up, giving his cheeks a squeeze before moving to deposit him on the bed, and Steve moans with pleasure._

But here-and-now Bucky is getting different signals from here-and-now Steve, and Bucky forces open his eyes and gives Steve a shake.

“Steve?” Bucky asks. “You okay?”

Steve looks a little dazed as he takes in the bedroom, Wanda sitting with them. 

“I think you’re feeling the same hesitation you feel now, with intimacy,” Wanda says softly. “Is that it?”

Steve looks at Bucky apologetically. “I don’t know.”

Bucky wraps his arms around Steve and rocks him against his chest. “You don’t need to be scared, Stevie,” he whispers into his ear. “I’ve got you. I know you’re worried, but we can do this.”

Steve twists to look at Bucky again. “What does it feel like to you?”

Bucky opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He doesn’t have words.

Something must show on his face, though, because a light comes into Steve’s eyes. “You didn’t remember this stuff before, did you?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No. And, um… it’s really great. So great, seeing it. Seeing us.” And it is. Bucky has vague memories of he and Steve together before the war, and he’s been able to trust them more since Steve confirmed that they had in fact been together. But this is so much better, so much more real than anything his messed up brain has ever shown him.

Although… “This really happened, right? These are real memories?”

Wanda and Steve both rush to reassure him, but it’s Steve’s word he’s looking for.

“Yeah, Buck. They’re real.”

“We were a pretty cute couple,” Bucky says, hoping to prompt a smile from Steve. He does.

“I guess we were.” Steve gives Bucky a long look, then turns back to Wanda. “Okay. I’m good. Show me more.”

This time when Bucky closes his eyes and Wanda brings them back to the scene on the bed, Bucky tries to keep a part of him present, taking Steve’s hand and holding it tight. The reassurance seems to work, and Steve relaxes into Bucky just that little bit more, opening himself up to Wanda.

Bucky isn’t sure how she does it, but now the memory feels even more true, no lingering tension or fear from the present tainting it. 

_Things get hot and heavy between past-Steve and past-Bucky pretty quickly, and soon the two are naked and getting busy under the sheets – and over them, writhing bodies on display – and Bucky once again has to fight off the feeling that his younger sister is watching him have sex._

When Wanda pulls them out of the memory, both Steve and Bucky are blushing, but she just smiles softly at them. 

“Don’t mind me,” she says, a hint of laughter in her voice. “Ready for more?”

Steve and Bucky nod in tandem, and Wanda’s smile spreads across her face.

_The next memory comes in sharp and pointed. They’re in a different apartment, and Bucky is getting dressed to go out. Steve is leaning against the kitchen table. He’s got that look on his face that means he’s pretending everything is okay when it’s really not._

_“I told you I’d rather stay home,” Bucky says._

_“And we agreed you can’t.”_

_“Betty won’t care. She’s hung up on someone else, anyway.” Bucky steps closer to Steve. “Just like I am.”_

_“It’s New Year’s, Buck. You can’t spend it with me.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“You know damn well why not.” Steve moves away when Bucky reaches for him, but there’s not really anywhere to go in the small apartment._

_“Steve, don’t be like this.” Bucky catches his arm and pulls him closer. Steve’s pressing his lips tight together. “Stevie, please. I love you.”_

Then they’re back in the master bedroom, Wanda shaking her head in apology. “Sorry, again – I keep messing up.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Steve says to Wanda. He turns in Bucky’s arms and catches his gaze. “That was the first time you said you loved me.”

Bucky knows this, knew it somehow before Steve told him. He could feel it in past-Bucky, his almost desperate need to let Steve know how he felt, to let him know that no casual date with a girl was going to make any difference.

“I’m sorry it was like that,” Bucky says. “I should have made it better for you. All of it.”

Steve shakes his head. “You did. You made everything better for me.” He huffs. “It’s not as if I had the guts to say it yet either. We were both scared.”

There’s a long moment when Bucky just ducks his head and rests it on Steve’s shoulder. It’s a lot.

“Do you want to take a break?” Wanda asks. 

“How do you know when we’re done?” Steve responds. “When the memories are… cleaned up?”

Wanda bites her lip. “I need to focus more on intimate scenes, and judge how you react to them.”

“I think it’s already making a difference,” Bucky says, his head still resting on Steve. 

“I do too,” Wanda agrees.

“Buck?” Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s head, runs his fingers through his hair. “You okay to keep going?”

“’Course.”

This time Wanda’s aim is true – she takes them right to a celebratory evening where clearly past-Steve and past-Bucky have cleared their schedules for a night of somethin’ somethin’. 

_There’s music playing the background again, there’s a candle on the kitchen table, and the two boys are lounging in bed, Steve in his boxers and Bucky in nothing at all, his bare ass hardly covered by a thin sheet._

_Here-and-now-Bucky gets the feeling that they’ve come in in the middle of the scene. He feels boneless in the memory, lazy and spent, running his hands over Steve less in lust and more in simple enjoyment._

_“Stop it, that tickles,” Steve says without any heat, and Bucky laughs._

_“Sorry.”_

_“You’re not.”_

_“Nah, you’re right. I’m not.” Bucky tickles Steve some more, and Steve pulls the thin pillow out from under his head and thumps Bucky with it. They wrestle for a few minutes, Steve all elbows and pointy knees, and suddenly Bucky is kissing Steve intently._

_The mood quickly turns, Bucky pulling Steve on top of him, his hand grabbing Steve’s ass and grinding them together. Steve is panting into Bucky’s ear, dirty, filthy words spilling out of his mouth, as Bucky gets his hand in between them and inside Steve’s boxers. He starts to stroke Steve, but Steve has other ideas._

_“Wanna suck you,” Steve says, kissing messily down Bucky’s body. Bucky’s fully hard by the time Steve gets his mouth on him, and he moans as Steve licks around the head and then takes him in his mouth. It doesn’t take long for Steve to bring him almost to completion, but Steve pulls off just in time for Bucky to shift them and get his hand around them both, jerking them off until they come, one after another, in a burst of pleasure._

Present-Bucky’s head is still spinning from the memory of this amazing orgasm when Wanda shows them another scene. 

_Steve is getting into bed late at night, Bucky waking when the cold air sneaks under the covers. Steve comes to him gently, kissing him softly, and they writhe together slowly, safe in their warm cocoon. “Love you so much, Buck,” Steve whispers afterwards, and Bucky hums back his agreement._

With each new scene, present-Steve gets more relaxed in Bucky’s arms. Bucky can feel a hint of embarrassment at the more explicit memories, but it is clear – more than clear – that Steve is welcoming Bucky’s touch and the opportunity to touch Bucky, both in the memory and every time Wanda pulls him out to check on his progress.

They’re almost as wrapped up in each other in the present as they are in the visions Wanda is showing them. Clearly the feelings in the memories are affecting them both. Bucky doesn’t even really care that Wanda is watching anymore, the emotions in the memories are so strong, so good, it’s more than worth the modicum of embarrassment that goes along with them.

The next memory immediately strikes Bucky as dramatically different, even before he figures out what’s going on. 

_It’s cold, and dark, and Bucky’s whole body is throbbing with pain. He’s outdoors, in a forest, sitting on the ground. His back is against a tree. Bucky can hear whispers and hushed voices, other men enduring the night._

_Past-Steve sits down next to him. He’s big now, wearing part of his Captain America outfit, a leather jacket over it. His warmth radiates towards Bucky. “You should get some rest, Buck,” Steve says._

_“I’m okay,” past-Bucky says, his voice rough. Bucky feels dizzy, even though he’s sitting down. He can feel the rocks and dirt under him, but the world is still spinning._

_“You’ve got to be exhausted. Close your eyes. I’ve got this watch.” Steve is looking at him so closely, Bucky would squirm, if he had the energy._

_It’s the night after Steve broke him and the others out of Hydra’s prison, got him out of Schmidt’s clutches. Saved his life. Bucky has no idea how far they’ve gotten from Schmidt’s people. Whether they’re still in danger. He’s used to being in danger, but what Schmidt did to him…_

_“Bucky?” Steve’s face is drawn with concern. “We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.” Steve pats his leg. “Come on, I promise I’ll stay awake.”_

_Bucky stares at Steve for a long moment. He can’t help reaching out, patting Steve on one broad shoulder, drawing his hand down his now impressive bicep._

_“You’re really here.”_

_“I am.” Steve looks down, and when he speaks, there’s a hint of apology in his voice. “I know I’m different, but it’s still me.” He laughs, a little bitterly. “Good thing I became so big, right? Got you out of that awful place.”_

_Bucky’s heart aches at the thought that Steve could feel bad, inadequate, about anything right now. “Steve, I know you’re still you. And-” he coughs, clears his throat, tries again – “Steve, it wouldn’t have mattered whether you were big or not. You still would have figured out a way to get us out of there.”_

_Some resolve breaks in Steve, and he pulls Bucky into a tight hug, not even glancing around to see if anyone is looking. Bucky’s covered in weeks of grime, and knows he must stink to high heaven, but he digs his face into the warm skin of Steve’s neck anyway. Steve’s scent is so familiar it hurts. “Love you so goddamn much, Stevie,” he whispers._

_“Love you too, Buck,” Steve breathes back. “Love you too. Now come on, lie down.”_

_Bucky finally obeys, curling up on his side with his head on Steve’s muscular thigh. Steve rests a hand on his arm, rubbing up and down for a few minutes, until Bucky finally fades off to sleep._

This time when Wanda pulls them out of it, there’s a long moment of quiet. Then Steve asks Wanda if they can have a minute together, and she slides gracefully off the bed and leaves the room.

Bucky still feels dazed, out of place, traces of that night in an Italian forest still clinging to his mind.

“Come here,” Steve says, sounding exactly like he had that night, like Bucky is fragile and needs comfort. Steve’s not wrong.

Bucky lets Steve wrap him in his arms, and concentrates on his breathing. In and out. 

It’s not the same as that night – too much has happened since then. Seventy-something years of violence, brainwashing and assassinations. But there’s no question that Steve is just as attuned to Bucky, just as dedicated to trying to keep him safe as he ever was.

Steve holds him tight, rubbing his back and stroking his hair, until Bucky’s trembling calms.

“I really do love the shit out of you,” Bucky says, pulling back to look at Steve.

“Well, that’s convenient,” Steve says, a little grin tugging at his mouth.

Bucky sighs. “This was supposed to be about you.”

“It was supposed to be about _us._ And it is.” Steve’s tone brooks no argument, and Bucky’s not about to give him one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was a little late - but hopefully it was worth it.


	10. Chapter 10

Eventually they pull themselves together and go downstairs. Clint, Sam and Wanda are down by the lake, Clint sunning himself on the dock while Sam shows Wanda how to skip stones. Steve offers to make them lunch, but they just laugh and point out that it’s almost time for dinner, and they have to be on their way soon anyway.

There’s a lightness to their goodbyes. Steve gives each of them a hug, and Bucky can’t help but compare his ease with this physical contact to the last time Steve was with his team, back at the Tower.

Bucky gives Wanda a heartfelt hug as well. “Thank you,” he says, suddenly almost tearing up.

She squeezes him back. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Can you – can you do more, with me?” Bucky will treasure these new memories, but he’d like even more. Of people he knows existed, but he can barely picture - his mom and dad, his sisters. And of every day with Steve.

Wanda looks surprised, but quickly nods. “Anytime.”

After everyone leaves, it’s awkward. Bucky and Steve walk past each other in the living room, picking up stray objects and putting them back down. Bucky starts to say something but can’t remember what he was going to say, and finally just looks at Steve and snorts out a quiet laugh.

“What?” Steve asks.

“We don’t have to _do_ anything tonight, you know.”

Steve stares at him and then lets out a long breath. “Oh, thank god. Not that – I mean, I want to – it’s just-”

“We’re exhausted,” Bucky fills in.

“Yes – and hungry. I’m so hungry!”

As soon as Steve says it, Bucky realizes he is ravenous. “Me too.”

They race each other to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and their cabinets in search of dinner.

“There’s not much here,” Steve finally concludes. 

“I’m starting to miss take-out,” Bucky says. “Couldn’t you go for Thai?”

Steve moans. “Satays and curry… or sushi. I’d really like sushi.”

“Lake-house JARVIS could probably get some.”

“It would take forever.” Bucky opens a cabinet again, the same one he’s opened twice already. “How about pasta?”

They wind up eating rotini with butter, some leftover grilled corn and peppers, and half a package of Oreos. Steve drags out the remains of a rotisserie chicken, but it’s really just bones.

“I guess we need to get some more food,” Steve says.

“We had plenty until that hoard descended on us.”

“I’m really glad they came, though.” Steve looks up from his empty plate, and catches Bucky’s eye. 

Bucky smiles, and offers Steve the last cookie. “Yeah. Me too.”

After dinner Steve falls asleep in front of the television, and Bucky reads for a while, Steve’s head pillowed on his lap. He is really, really glad that they had visitors, and not just for what Wanda did for them, although that’s an awfully big part of it. But it also gave Steve a chance to interact with his friends here, where he’s been so relaxed he’s gotten bored, where he can let his guard down – where he’s been letting it down, progressively, for weeks.

Steve rouses when the movie ends, and sleepily pushes himself up off the couch. His hair is mussed, and his attempt to fix it by running his fingers through it only makes it worse. 

“Time for bed, sleepyhead,” Bucky says, taking Steve’s hand and heading upstairs.

“Now who sounds like a grandpa,” Steve mutters.

“Oooh, sexy talk,” Bucky teases. 

“Shut up, you said we were just going to sleep.”

“We are, pumpkin, we are.”

Steve tugs off his clothes and falls into bed, not even bothering with sleep pants. “I’d kill you, but I’m too tired.”

Bucky grins and undresses quickly, eager to curl up with Steve. Steve’s not actually grumpy, and he proves it by immediately snuggling up to Bucky and kissing his skin wherever his mouth happens to land – neck, collarbone, cheek… it doesn’t turn into anything more, and that’s fine with Bucky.

“Sweet dreams, sugarplum,” Bucky says, and Steve stretches to place a quick kiss on Bucky’s lips, then plops back down on his chest.

“You’re making breakfast,” Steve mumbles.

Bucky hums his agreement, and strokes a hand down Steve’s side. No question, it’s been an emotional day, but the best day Bucky can remember in a long time.

*****  
The next morning, Bucky wakes to the smell of coffee. Steve’s not in bed, but the sheets are still warm – he hasn’t been gone long.

Bucky looks out the window and sees Steve down on the deck, looking out over the railing at the lake. There isn’t any fog this morning, and the sun shining off the water’s surface is so bright it makes Bucky blink. Steve looks like something out of a photo shoot, broad muscles rippling across his bare back, pajama pants hanging low on his hips.

Although Bucky doesn’t think he’s made any noise, Steve turns and sees him standing at the window. He beams, and points to the coffee cups on the table.

Bucky pulls a shirt and shorts on, gives his teeth a quick brush, and heads downstairs. When he gets out to the deck, Steve just stands still and waits for Bucky to come close to him, like a self-assured flame knowing that the moth is on its way. Bucky comes up next to Steve and kisses him, Steve’s coffee flavored breath mingling with the mint from Bucky’s toothpaste. 

Steve hands Bucky his coffee and they both turn back towards the lake, elbows on the railing as they sip from their mugs. Bucky closes his eyes and lets himself soak up the moment, the warm sun on his face, the slight breeze ruffling the trees. Steve, strong and sure, beside him.

At some point Steve puts his mug down on the table, and gently turns Bucky towards him. Before he knows it, they’re kissing again, but it’s not just a fleeting good morning kiss. Bucky blindly balances his mug on the railing and wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders. Steve’s got a hand on Bucky’s cheek, and another running up and down Bucky’s side.

When Steve’s hand wanders further back, stopping just on the curve of Bucky’s ass, Bucky feels a spike of adrenaline. This is it, then, he thinks. This is the test of all they went through yesterday. Steve wants to try.

“You sure, Stevie?” Bucky breathes out, but Steve just covers his mouth with a kiss. 

“I’m sure. If you…?” Steve pulls back for a moment, then, as always more concerned with Bucky’s well being than his own.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Bucky takes Steve’s palm and kisses it, then places it back where it was resting on his own cheek. He looks Steve in the eyes and searches, finding nothing but love and determination, a classic Steve combination if there ever was one. “I’m good.”

They make out for a while, not yet really going further than they have before. Then Bucky lets his flesh hand rest on Steve’s waist, that warm area of skin just above the waistband of his sleep pants. He slides his fingers under the fabric, over Steve’s ass, and Steve stops kissing Bucky long enough to whisper in his ear. “Go ahead. Please.”

Steve pulls them closer together, until they are touching practically head to toe, and Bucky can feel Steve hard against his groin. His own erection is straining at his shorts, and he wishes he had had the presence of mind to wear something nice and stretchy like Steve did.

Steve has left off kissing Bucky and is panting softly in his ear, as Bucky lets his fingers slide down under Steve’s pants and boxers. He gets a handful of Steve’s ass, and starts to massage it, pulling Steve up against him with each squeeze.

Steve gets his hands on Bucky’s fly and his shorts are dropping to the ground before Bucky even registers what’s going on, but that’s nothing compared to how it feels when Steve palms his cock. 

“Holy shit, Steve,” Bucky gasps, and for a moment he can think of nothing but the feel of Steve’s hand on him, warm and solid. They’re both panting now, squirming and shifting, but Bucky doesn’t want to just jerk Steve off, not today. “Can we – can we go inside?”

It takes a minute for Steve to process Bucky’s words, but then he pulls his hand out of Bucky’s boxers and looks at him, face red and lips swollen. “I thought-” Steve hesitates, looking around, “I thought maybe outside, you’d feel less-”

Bucky feels a surge of love for this man, willing to bare it all in the bright sunshine in hopes that Bucky would be more comfortable. “I think I’d like to lie down and enjoy you properly.”

Steve’s eyes flicker to the chairs on the deck, but he quickly realizes the danger in trying to put the two of them on any piece of that wicker furniture, even the slightly larger one that might conceivably be characterized as a loveseat.

“I promise, I’m good indoors,” Bucky says. “We’ve got that nice big bed…”

Steve nods. “Okay. Right.”

Bucky’s feet are tangled in his shorts and he nearly trips as they start to move, but Steve grabs him by the arm and keeps him upright.

“My hero,” Bucky says, no hint of sarcasm in his voice, and Steve blushes even darker. Once the problem of the shorts is handled, they race upstairs, stripping off their remaining clothes in unspoken agreement.

Steve climbs on to the bed, naked and unashamed, and holds out his arms. “Come here.”

Bucky readily complies. Steve stares at him, a smile stretching his face, and then runs a finger teasingly down Bucky’s chest and over his abs. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re hallucinating.”

“Nope.” Steve shakes his head, his eyes alight. “Don’t argue with Captain America. He’s all about truth.”

“Please don’t talk about yourself in the third person when we’re in bed.”

Steve laughs, and Bucky tackles him, kissing him intently. The kiss turns dirty, and Bucky feels Steve’s knee come up over his thigh, pressing their bodies together. Bucky’s lying on his side and his metal arm winds up under Steve’s head - he spares a brief thought to hope that it isn’t too uncomfortable for Steve, and then decides that if Steve is noticing anything about his arm while they’re kissing like there’s no tomorrow, Bucky’s doing it wrong.

Steve continues his exploration of Bucky’s chest, running his fingertips over his skin, and circling a nipple until Bucky is squirming.

“You like that?”

“You know I do,” Bucky says, and they still, just for a moment, obviously both remembering one of the scenes Wanda showed them the day before, Steve licking and sucking Bucky’s nipples until he came with just a few strokes to his cock.

Steve looks at Bucky and grins, and the proceeds to kiss his way down Bucky’s chest, not hesitating to kiss the scarred flesh where it meets the metal, but then focusing his attention on Bucky’s already sensitive nipples.

“Good?” Steve asks, looking up, and Bucky has to forcibly remember how to form words, as he nods at Steve. 

“Good.”

After a few more minutes of basking in the intense feeling of Steve’s tongue and teeth on his body, Bucky shifts them and gives Steve the same treatment. His pecs are so round and firm, they deserve to be worshipped, and Bucky isn’t going to waste this opportunity. Soon Steve is mumbling noises of pleasure at him, and Bucky slides back up to kiss him on the mouth, pressing his body tightly against Steve’s.

Steve reaches down and gets his hand around them both, and from there, Bucky can hardly breathe for how good it feels. He hears Steve as if through a fog, panting and calling his name, and soon after Bucky is shooting over the edge, sharp-edged pleasure coursing through his body.

As he comes down, Steve wipes them with the edge of the sheet, and Bucky curls into Steve’s side. He falls asleep for a little while, and when he wakes, Steve is gazing at him.

“Hi,” Bucky says, suddenly shy.

Steve leans over and kisses him sweetly, then pulls back. “Hi.” There’s a smile tugging at his mouth, his cheeks already primed for it, and soon Steve is beaming like the sun. “Hi.”

“You said that already,” Bucky says, and Steve leans in and kisses him again.

“I did that already too. You have a problem with it?”

“Nope.” Bucky grins, and takes Steve’s hand in his. “I’m feeling a little proud of us.”

Steve’s eyes widen just a little, and then he nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Next thing you know, you’ll be wanting to go back to being an Avenger.”

Steve pushes up on an elbow, and he smiles, laughing softly. “Yeah, maybe I will. I think I will. But-” Steve leans down and kisses Bucky, tracing his lips with his tongue, then sits back up and gives Bucky a wink. “Maybe – not just yet.”


	11. Chapter 11

_Epilogue_

_Dear Steve,_

_I was thinking we should get out of the city tomorrow. We’ve only been back here for a few weeks, but I already miss the outdoors. We could take your bike up to the Catskills, or out to Montauk. We could even go to Coney Island._

_I haven’t been there in – well, you know how long. I promise not to laugh if you want to hold my hand on the ferris wheel. Or if you don’t want to._

_What Wanda did was never supposed to be a magic cure. Kind of magic, maybe, I guess, but not a cure. There’s always going to be ups and downs, and it’s okay. You’re so hard on yourself, it hurts my heart._

_Please come to bed._

_Love,_

_Bucky_

Bucky sends the email, and leans back against the headboard with a sigh. He waits for a few minutes, watching the screen of his tablet for a response that doesn’t come, and then turns off the light and gets under the covers. 

They had given themselves two more weeks of seclusion at the lake house after Wanda’s visit, fucking like bunnies, seeing out how long those marks Steve liked to leave on Bucky’s neck took to fade. But Steve was restless, and eager to test out his newfound confidence as the leader of the Avengers once again, so they came home.

The Avengers side of things has worked well – they’ve been on a few missions, and Steve is easier with the team, more relaxed. The fact that they were all overjoyed to have him back didn’t hurt either.

But between the two of them, it’s been more of a crapshoot. And Steve doesn’t want to talk about it. He won’t talk about it with Bucky, no matter how he tries – casual or direct, straightforward or pleading.  
And as far as Bucky can tell, Steve hasn’t talked to Prisha about it, either. 

It was after they came back from a mission that it happened again. They were tired, and sweaty, and peeling off their uniforms in the bedroom, giving each other flirty looks despite their exhaustion. Bucky reached for Steve to help him with the zipper on his suit, and Steve flinched. The look on his face was devastating, as much as Bucky rushed to reassure him that it was okay.

Since then, Steve’s new-found optimism has been tempered with caution, maybe even fear. Bucky thinks he doesn’t want to try too often, because it doesn’t always work. The closest they’ve come to talking about it was one night on the couch when Steve brought up one of the memories Wanda had shown them, asking Bucky if he remembered the apartment with the crooked floor, trying to fill in details about the book they were both obsessed with that winter. Bucky thought Steve relaxed a little bit after that, and they managed to curl up together in bed that night without incident. But Steve didn’t initiate anything more, and Bucky… well, Bucky was nervous now, too.

Finally the light from the doorway changes, and Bucky looks up to see Steve, shoulders slumped, leaning against the frame.

“Why’d you email me when I’m right in the next room?” There’s a hint of tired annoyance in his voice.

Bucky can’t help but snipe back. “Since you haven’t been much interested in talking with me lately, though it might work better this way.” He can’t see Steve’s face, shadowed as he is by the light from the living room, but he can imagine the reflexive way Steve’s probably tightening his jaw, and immediately regrets his tone.

“Come on, Steve. Come to bed.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s no use.”

“Bed still works for sleeping.”

“Yeah, but…” Steve trails off. He’s not coming any closer, but he’s not leaving, either.

“We slept in this bed for ages without touching. We’re good at it. Gold medal winners. Come on.”

“What’s the point?”

Bucky can’t help sighing. Even now, Steve can be such a drama queen. “Point is, I love you, and I like being near you. And you like being near me.” He sits up a little, pats the other side of the bed. “Come on. Please.”

Steve relents, shuffling over to his side of the bed and crawling under the covers. When he’s all wrapped up, he flops over, facing Bucky. “I feel like a failure.”

Bucky resists the urge to say “you’re not a failure.” He’s said it before, and it has helped exactly zero times. “I don’t feel great either. But I feel better with you here.”

Steve’s mouth quirks up in a sad approximation of a smile. “I just… what’s the point, of all this effort? If it’s not going to work?”

“Who says it’s not working?”

“I can’t touch you,” Steve huffs. “I want to, so bad, but… I can’t. So it’s not working.”

“Why?” Bucky asks.

“Why?” The annoyed tone has returned. “What do you mean, _why_?”

“Why do you want to touch me? Think about it for a minute, don’t just get all defensive. What does it do for you? It’s not really the sex, right – as awesome as that is.” And it is awesome. “What is it?”

Steve is quiet for a minute, and Bucky isn’t sure if he’s going to be able get past his frustration and actually think about his question. But he does; Steve is nothing if not persistent. “When we’re together, I feel safe. Loved. That’s why it feels good.” He finds Bucky’s eyes, his voice shaky. “It’s not wrong to want that.”

“No, Stevie, of course not. I want that too.” Bucky pauses, shuffles a little closer on the bed. He’s lying on his flesh arm, and he untucks his hand from under his pillow and stretches until it’s resting between them on the sheet. “Gimme your finger,” he says, extending his pinky.

Steve frowns at him but latches his pinky around Bucky’s. 

“That’s okay, right?” Bucky asks. Even at his most anxious, the touch of Bucky’s finger had almost never upset Steve.

“Yeah.”

“Now get comfortable, and look at me.”

Steve slides an inch or so closer to Bucky, so that his arm can rest naturally between them, and then holds Bucky’s gaze. 

“Hi,” says Bucky, and Steve, predictably, can’t help but smile back at him.

“Hi. What are we doing?”

“Patience. Just – just relax for a minute.”

Steve blinks his eyes closed, long and slow, and lets out a measured breath. When he opens his eyes to see Bucky still gazing at him, he squirms a little at the attention. “Bucky, what-”

“Shh. Just _be_ for a minute.”

Steve accepts this, remarkably, and settles in, shifting a little, letting his eyes move over Bucky’s face, then to their joined fingers. After a few minutes, he unhooks their pinkies and lays his palm against Bucky’s. Bucky feels a tingle run down his spine, and he smiles, finding Steve’s eyes again.

“For me,” Bucky says, speaking softly so as not to break the spell, “this is safety, and love. I feel it just like this, close to you.”

“Me too,” Steve rushes to agree. “I do, too.” It’s like he’s surprised, and he grips Bucky’s hand, as if to prove the point.

“It doesn’t need to be more, Steve. I get that you want more, and that you’re disappointed. But no matter what happens – if we never have sex again-”

“No-” Steve groans.

“If we never have sex again,” Bucky repeats, squeezing Steve’s hand, “I’m still gonna love you. Still gonna want to be with you always.”

“Always gonna love you too, Buck.”

“This is more than I ever thought I’d have, Steve. We were never destined for this – the way this worked out…” Bucky can’t really put it into words, the immense improbability of where they now find themselves. 

“But it did,” Steve says, his confidence returning. “It did.” His breath rushes out of him, and he pushes up on an elbow. “Bucky, how the hell do you keep bringing me to my senses? What’s wrong with me?” Steve shakes his head. “Don’t let my – stuff – ever make you think you don’t mean the world to me, okay? Because you do, Buck. You mean everything.”

Bucky grins. He hadn’t been fishing for a compliment, but he’ll take it anyway. “So, you’re saying – sex or no sex – you’re in it ‘til the end of the line?”

Steve swats him on the shoulder with his free hand, and laughs, loud and long. “I hate you sometimes.”

“Hate you sometimes, too, punk.”

“Jerk.”

“Now settle down and give me a kiss good night.”

Steve leans over and complies, smacking a wet, sloppy kiss right on Bucky’s lips, then startles as he leans back. “You tricked me,” he says, the laugh still evident in his voice.

“Walked right into it, just like you always do.”

“You gonna start with that again? I am nowhere near as headstrong as you make me out to be.” Steve lies down, cheek on Bucky’s shoulder. “You are constantly exaggerating.”

“Believe what you want, cowboy.”

“The rest of the Avengers don’t tease me like this.”

“Have you met them?”

“They respect authority.”

“You are clearly delusional.”

Steve snuggles closer, and wraps an arm around Bucky’s waist. “Let a man dream.”

“Long as I’m in it.” Bucky threads his fingers through the hair on the back of Steve’s head.

“Mmm,” Steve hums against Bucky’s cheekbone. “Wouldn’t be a sweet dream if you weren’t,” he mumbles.

Bucky can feel Steve go boneless against his side as he drifts off to sleep. It’s not perfect, this life they have forged out of stubbornness and heartbreak. But it’s awfully good, and Bucky wouldn’t trade it for anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! I'd love to hear from you - please leave a comment and let me know how you liked the story. Or come visit me on tumblr at [Flowerfan2.](https://flowerfan2.tumblr.com/)


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